


Thirty Six Questions Later

by annangst



Series: Thirty Six Questions [1]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: AU, College AU, Fanfiction, I love writing??, Love Story, M/M, My babys, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, They love each other so much, Thirty Six Questions, University, YES THEYRE IN COLLEGE, i love them, oh wow I changed the rating, spierfeld, this might get... not smutty but a little smutty, when i say slow burn i mean slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 41,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annangst/pseuds/annangst
Summary: AU where Simon and Bram are both studying at Columbia University of New York, and both decide to take part in a social experiment after a study of psychologist Arthur Aron. The study states that you can fall in love with anyone by simply answering thirty six questions. But can you really? Even if it all happens over the internet anonymously? And even if you've never openly shown your sexuality? Even if you've always been bad at love?





	1. Chapter 01

I’m the kind of person who follows their school’s Twitter account. Maybe that’s what you’d expect from a Harry Potter-loving theater buff with too much free time, I don’t know. To be honest, I might even just follow them to show that I actually go there. Like, I can still feel the rush of excitement that hit me when I got into Columbia. Not only was it the only university I applied for, so for that fact, I was pretty relieved I didn’t have to find a sucky job to pass an eventual gap year by, but it did also mean I would live in New York.

Like, New York City. Which is a total upgrade to Atlanta, Georgia. Especially when you’re gay.

So that’s something. I’m gay. Let’s just say I haven’t been out for long, and definitely not voluntarily. All I’ve wanted to do for the majority of Senior Year was wanting to run away to a place where people wouldn’t shut their mouths and look me up and down with eyes big as saucers as soon as I enter a room.

And now I’m here, in New York. In Brooklyn to be exact, in a tiny apartment, I share with my best friend Leah. Leah doesn’t actually go to Columbia, she just attends some classes voluntarily as she’s a freelancing artist, and I swear to a God I don’t believe in, the only thing we have more of than different sorts of cereals in this flat is canvases. Our walls are basically taped with drawings of familiar book or movie characters, and I can even find myself in some of them. Like the sketch of me and Leah sitting on the floor of our empty apartment the night after we first moved in. Our voices used to echo even though the compartments are rather about the size of little cabinets than actual rooms.

I’m currently laying on my bed, with my laptop propped up against my thighs. I have soft music playing because Leah throws a tantrum whenever I turn it up too loud. She says she likes to lose herself in her art, and she can’t do that when Carly Rae Jepsen is playing for the hundredth time in the span of two hours.

I’m scrolling up my Twitter timeline when a new tweet from Columbia pops up at the top.

 

 **@ColumbiaNYC** Our Psych Seniors are doing a social experiment based on Arthur Aaron’s theory that everyone could potentially fall in love with anyone just by answering 36 question!

 **@ColumbiaNYC** If YOU are between the age of 18 and 28 and would like to take part in the experiment (and maybe fall in love!) please visit our website  columbiapsych.com for further information!

 

I raise one eyebrow, a thing Leah always makes fun of because ‚It looks ridiculous!‘, and open up a new browser tab. A quick Google search later I’ve skimmed the thirty-six questions that could apparently make me goofy for anyone.

Just for the record, I like to tell myself I’m a very realistic and cynical person. Truth is, I’m just not. Honestly, it doesn’t take thirty-six questions to make me lose my shit over someone. Usually, it’s enough for a cute boy to look at me for longer than three seconds and I’ve already named all of our three future children.

Regarding that, you might think I’ve had tons of boyfriends in the past. I mean I definitely had, but they were also definitely all up in my head. I’ve had, for example, a totally cute, and totally fictive, relationship with the boy who used to play our mascot at school. He was a total dork with dark, curly hair and warm brown eyes, and so, so adorable. Except he had no idea I even existed because he was a year ahead of me and my interest in sports usually ends with hot guys in shorts with soccer calves.

I’d like to think I’ve had felt love in my life, but truly, I think I’ve only felt what the idea of love would be like.

Before I know better I’ve already clicked on the website linked in Columbia’s tweet. It’s pretty clear that it’s been designed by some experienced IT guy. The background is a bright blue and the font of the text is popping up whenever I let the cursor slide over the words.

 

 

 

 

 

> In his recent study, psychologist Arthur Aaron stated that asking thirty-six specific questions plus four minute of sustained eye contact is a receipt for falling in love — with anyone, at any time, at any place.
> 
> His method has since been tested various times under laboratory conditions and with the use of time limits.
> 
> We, the Psych Seniors of the Columbia University, want to go a step further. What does this mean? We’d like to explore whether the physical appearance and presence of the partner is necessary for the process of falling in love. For our very own specific experiment we’ve thought about the factor of complete anonymity a lot, and came to the conclusion to use the internet in our favor.
> 
> With help from fellow students we’ve created an app, called Thirty Six, which you can download in the App Store if you’d like to be a participant in our experiment. Before you can use the app and fall in love, though, you will need a code to sign up. To get the code you simply need to fill out this form which will then be emailed to one of us. Within the span of twenty four hours, you will receive the code per email.
> 
> We, the leaders of the experiments, will be the only ones who have your name and info, and we won’t be giving it to any third parties.
> 
> Please notify that the communication with your partner will be over your personal email account, so the email you’ll use to sign up for the app will eventually be the one your partner is going to see (you might want to avoid your real name for the sake of anonymity).
> 
> Just know you are completely free to quit the experiment at any time, you won’t even need to tell us/your partner why. We do suggest, though, to inform us as soon as possible if there is any form of harassment, insults, or the like happening towards you from your partner.
> 
> We’re looking forward to having you as a participant!
> 
> Here’s to love!

 

„This is utter bullshit“, I mumble to myself as I click on the next link. I’m directed to a new, very minimalistic side with a few questions for me to answer if I wish to participate.

 

 

 

 

 

> **Full name (only for our own use, will not be shown on the app, or to third parties)**  
>  Simon Irvin Spier
> 
> **Sex (please choose one)**  
>  [x] male  
>  [ ]  female  
>  [ ]  other
> 
> **E-Mail**  
>  hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> **Birthday + Age**  
>  November 17th, 18
> 
> **Sexual Orientation (please choose one)**  
>  [ ]  straight  
>  [x] gay  
>  [ ]  bisexual  
>  [ ]  pansexual  
>  [ ]  asexual  
>  [ ]  other

 

Once I clicked send on that, the next thing that pops up is a ‚Thank you for participating, Simon! You can now download Thirty-Six in the app store. We will send you a signup code to your email address hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com within the next 24 hours.‘

„What have I just done.“

„Are you having another existential crisis?“ Leah’s head peaks around the door. „Because if so, I’m going to leave since we’ve run out of both, Oreos _and_ Pop Tarts, and I can’t handle this right now.“

I close my laptop and shove it to the side. „I might have just signed up for some online dating thing.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first chapter done and I'm so *clenches fist* excited to write this. Y'all, I'm gonna be a psych major this coming fall, and I'm also pan, so this idea of "you could fall in love with anyone" is SO interesting to me?? I don't even know if I'm making sense but :)
> 
> Also, little disclaimer, the writing is going to be a lot better, I just really really wanted to get this first chapter up and sometimes I'm just like "what r werds" so just know the following chapters will be better.  
> Okay, that's it, I love you and it's ten at night here so I'm off to bed. <3


	2. Chapter 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first Jacques/Blue emails! Woooppp!  
> (please tell me if you, at least kind of, understand how the app works, or if I have to explain it again within the story :))

_Congrats! You’ve been matched!_

The notification popped up minutes ago, and while I’m basically forcing myself to complete my script writing paper for one of my classes I can’t stop staring at it.

To be honest, if this paper wasn’t due tomorrow, I wouldn’t have hesitated to grab my phone right away. And it’s not like I’m the most creative person — I definitely fail creative things more often than not. I mean, I’m more the kind of guy that plays the script out rather than write it. I remember this one guy from my course, though, and his writing is amazing. I’m not usually that into books — obviously, I’ve read the essentials, like Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, and I’m also quite into a webcomic that I recently discovered — but I’d buy his books in a heartbeat. He never reads it aloud voluntarily, but when our teacher, Mister Adams, makes him, he actually sounds quite confident in his words.

His writing is poetic and colorful, sometimes even a bit whimsical, but strangely real at the same time. Every time he reads something of his I get the feeling of knowing him, but then he shuts his mouth and he’s just another guy in the crowd again. I guess I wish he’d never stop talking.

I let my head fall face-first onto the keyboard of my laptop. It’s rather hard to concentrate on anything right now, with this stupid 36 Question Thing on my mind, and my best friend talking into a mic in the room next to mine.

Leah started a Podcast like a month or two ago, and people really like listening to her. It is called _The Offbeat_ , and as the name suggests, Leah talks about all things controversial on there. Like, I once heard her talking about butt plugs, so that’s a thing.

Okay, there’s no way I can finish this paper right now. I need time with my phone and probably some Oreos and Reese’s.  
When I press the home button to light up the screen of my phone, however, I see that I got another notification without even noticing. _Your partner sent a message!_

I feel my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. Is this app supposed to make me feel like that? Quickly, I roll onto my back, holding the phone in front of my face, and open the app.

A bright orange screen shows up, telling me once again that I’ve been matched with a random partner (boy, in my case). I touch the screen once and am directed to something that looks like the inbox of an email account — which makes sense since the app is actually linked to my Gmail.

My partner’s email address shows up as bluegreen118@gmail.com. There isn’t a clue to take from this. Without hesitation, I let my curiosity win, and open the message.

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 22 August at 4:46 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Hi
> 
> Hi. Hey. Hello. I don’t exactly know how to start this. So, I guess we both signed up for that 36 Question Experiment, and I guess we’ve been matched. I also guess you’ve already figured that out yourself.
> 
> The app told me it was on me to seed the first email. So, here we are… To get one thing out of the way before we start this: I’m not good at making first moves, so please, please don’t throw me off right away.
> 
> I didn’t get a question to ask you yet, so I’m just kind of introducing myself right now, I suppose.
> 
> So, my name is Blue. Well, my name is not _actually_ Blue, but you can call me that. I actually like it more than my real name, but that’s besides the point. I can’t really tell you much more for the matter of anonymity, can I?
> 
> What’s your name? And how are you? Are you nervous about this whole thing too, because my hands are sweating as we speak? (These do not count to the 36 Questions by the way.)
> 
> — Blue

 

Involuntarily I start smiling at my phone. It seems like this boy is feeling kind of similar to me. Maybe he’s been trash talking the whole thing as well and is still doing it. And I’m definitely nervous about this. I mean, what if we do fall in love? I don’t really believe in it, although the hopeless romantic part of me is already obsessing about it.

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 22 August at 5:01 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Hi
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> my name is Jacques. Well, my name is not actually Jacques, and I don’t like it more than my actual name, but we’re just gonna roll with it. And I’m fine, I guess? Nervous, to be honest, and to answer your last question.
> 
> (Is you asking questions already before the whole Thirty Six Thing has even started considered cheating? Can the matchmakers see this? Are we being watched?)
> 
> I mean, of course I’m nervous. Not lastly because I’m also not really good at making first moves on guys… And what if we do fall in love? What are we gonna name our children? Do you even want children? I want three — I grew up with two siblings and loved it!
> 
> Anyway, how is this gonna go? Who will ask the first question? What even is the first question? I’m already stressed.
> 
> Are you at Columbia?
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: It’s a funny thing to ask, but did you nickname yourself Blue after the webcomic? In case you didn’t, and you didn’t know, there’s a webcomic about a gay superhero who is called Blue. I absolutely love it and you should check it out if you haven’t!

 

Once I’ve clicked send on my email, my phone buzzes and another screen lights up within the app, this time a vibrant pink. _Let The Questions start! Your partner is going first. Please click continue once you’ve answered his question, and you’ll be directed to the second one, which you will ask him.  
If you wish to stop the experiment, just click the red cross in the top left corner_(a neon yellow arrow shows up to emphasize the cross). _Here’s to love!_


	3. Chapter 3

I spend the evening catching up on said webcomic. It really is a great work of art, and I can’t believe I get to read a new chapter every week for freaking free.

The story’s mostly quite complex: There’s this boy, he’s called Benji, and he’s that super smart but bullied gay kid in high school, but at night, he becomes this awesome superhero Blue, who protects his city from evil powers.

The art style is great, especially with the colors mostly being shades of blue, grey, and violet, and the dialogue is cracking me up every time.

I’m at the end of chapter thirteen, the latest one when Leah comes in without knocking. I nearly fall out of bed. „Leah!“

„Hey, Simon, d’you want to— Okay, there’s literally no need for you to be scared of me. Calm down.“

„Can’t you knock?!“ I shut my laptop. „I could be masturbating.“

„If I ever catch you jerking off to that webcomic I’m calling a doctor, Si“, she says with a serious expression on her face, „Anyway, what I wanted to ask you: You know this Garrett dude, right? I have a statistics class with him and he invited me to this karaoke bar, and since no one in the world can bring me to sing in front of people, I need to bring you along so you can save me with your angelic voice.“

I sit up straight, leaning my back against the wall next to my bed. „My angelic voice.“ I let out a snort. „If I happen to sing under the shower you burst in andthreaten to kill me with our largest kitchen knife if I don’t shut my freaking _‚shithole of a mouth’_.“

„Yes. Because you take showers at 2 am, Simon“, she says.

„Fair enough.“ I cross my legs underneath my body. „So, are you and Garrett, like, a thing? You mentioned him quite a lot lately.“

Leah shrugs. „I mean, he’s cute, I guess. And really, really funny So maybe. There’s potential.“

I let out a long sigh. „Why do you have more game than me, though?“

„Because I leave the house. Eventually.“

„So do I!“, I protest, „I show up to most classes and I eat on the campus. Why haven’t I met the love of my life yet?“

„You’re making it sound like Statistics-Garrett is going to turn out to be the love of my life“, she says.

„Could be“, I say.

„No.“ She fiddles with a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. „So, I’m going to get ready. We’re leaving at seven. Dinner’s at the bar. It’s on Garrett. At least that’s what he said.“

„Wait“, I say, „Does he know you’re bringing me along? Or is this a date for just the two of you?“

„He’s bringing some friends as well so it should be fine“, Leah says, getting up from the foot of my bed.

„Oh, alright. Seven then.“ I reach for my phone.

 

***

 

Garrett is, in fact, a decent dude. He’s tall and broad, with blonde hair and vibrant, almost teal looking eyes. He actually gets up from his chair and waves when he sees Leah and me enter the bar.

„Damn, Lee“, I murmur into her ear.

„Shut the hell up, Spier.“ I can tell she has to fight back a giggle.

Garrett greets her with an embracing full-body hug, then holds his hand out for me to shake. „Garrett Laughlin“, he says. His voice has the sound of a permanent grin.

„Simon Spier“, I answer.

The bar isn’t the usual kind of karaoke place. Instead of chairs, there are love seats, bean bags and fluffy cushions scattered around small, round tables. Garrett guides us to one who’s already occupied by two other people our age. One of them is a petite black girl with very, very curly hair, which she tried to tame by using a patterned bandana. The other is —

„You’re the guy from my Creative Writing course!“, I burst out.

He’s black, too, although his skin is a little lighter than the girl’s, and he seems the same kind of quiet and reserved like during our lessons.

„It’s Bram actually“, he says, then hesitates for the fraction of a second before sticking his hand out for me to shake.

„Simon“, I say, shaking it.

„I know.“

I shift my weight awkwardly from one foot to another. Leah and Garrett have already sat down on two separate cushions. There’s a free bean bag left right next to Bram in which I plop down. „So are you guys going to sing?“

„No way“, the black girl says, „Not until I’m on the right level of drunk. — Oh, I’m Abby by the way. Abby Suso“ She smiles, and her face shines out such a warmth that I immediately decide to befriend her.

„Actually“ Garrett leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. „we do have a friend who’s gonna sing tonight. He’s over there, right by the stage.“

I follow the finger he points to the stage and spot another guy. He’s very tall, wears his hair in dreads, and is carrying a guitar around his waist.

„His name is Nick.“

I nod, slowly, watching him get on stage. He seems to be the first performer of the evening, and once he’s placed the guitar on his lap, I know he’s not just going to do karaoke, but a full-on cover of a song.

„Stop undressing him with your eyes“, Leah hisses, only for me to hear.

„So, uhm“ Abby looks from me to Leah and back, „Are you guys, like, a thing?“

It takes a moment, then Leah and I burst out laughing. Just the imagination of Leah and me dating is too absurd to take seriously. I mean, even if I happened to be straight, which I am definitely not, Leah could never be more than my best friend. It’s not that she isn’t insanely beautiful, because she is, and she’s also smart, and snarky, and cunning, and just the best at everything, but she’s also a Slytherin, and I’m a Hufflepuff, so you can imagine we break out in fights frequently.

Nonetheless, she is my soulmate, and nothing and no one could ever take her from me.

Enough of me declaring my love for Leah Burke.

„No“, Leah snorts through two waves of laughter.

„I’m…I’m not into girls“, I say, a grin on my face. There’s definitely been a time where I couldn’t say those words with a smile plastered on my face, but that was in high school, people were closed-minded and sexuality was a tough topic. Nowadays, however, I’m out and proud. Not gonna lie, though, I’m not the best at this whole gay thing, or love in general, I guess, since I’ve never had a boyfriend, only hookups. But I love being gay anyway, and I feel very good in my own skin (especially since I lost a dare to Leah and had to start going to the gym at least once a week. I hate her for it, but it’s crazy how calming yoga can be.)

„Oh, alright“, Abby says, leaning back into the love seat, „Cool that.“

Bram doesn’t say a word. His gaze is locked on his and Abby’s knees touching, I'm not even sure he heard what I said.

„Also, Simon doesn’t put the toilet seat down, so we wouldn’t work“, Leah throws in.

„Good thing I do that then, Burke“, Garrett says, nudging Leah’s arm slightly with his elbow.

„What about you guys?“, I ask, looking from Abby to Bram, „You together?“

„Oh.“ Abby shakes her head. „No. I’m actually with Nick.“ She points her chin toward the stage where Nick is fumbling with his guitar, still getting ready to perform.

„Oh.“

 

***

 

Nick pulls of Oasis’s _Wonderwall_ so well that he actually has to give a couple of autographs when he leaves the stage. Once he’s arrived at our table, and we all did the obligatory introducing once again, he squeezes in between Abby and Bram. Three people on a love seat works for approximately five seconds before Bram takes his glass of coke and gets up.

I scoot a little to the right, making room for him on the rather big beanbag cushion.

„Thanks“, he says, sitting down.

I nod at him. I think I get the situation. Bram likes Abby, but Abby is with Nick. And Nick and Bram are probably friends. I guess high school drama sometimes carries on all through college.

„Did you finish the script for Mister Adams already?“, I ask, looking at Bram.

„I did. Turned out pretty long, though. Might need to shorten it a little bit.“

I let out a small laugh. „Ha. I wish mine would at least have any length. It’s so short it’s pretty much non-existent.“

He returns my grinning. „It’s probably good anyway. If I remember correctly, your things are always quite short, but very good. You can get to the heart of things, I envy that.“

„What? No way. My writing isn’t any good. I’m a theatre major, I’m only taking the writing course because it’s required.“ I take a sip from the Sprite the waitress has just brought. „Also, why would you be jealous of any of my writing? Your pretty much Oscar Wilde Junior.“

Now he’s breaking out into an actual laugh. „Oh god. Definitely not.“

„Seriously, though, I like your stuff a lot. Wish I could write something like that so Mister Adams would let me pass.“

„I could help you out with that if you want me to“, he says, „Not with the paper now since it’s due tomorrow but with the next one.“

„Really? Honestly, that would be great“, I say.

Bram takes a sip of his coke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I ship Garrett and Leah as much as I ship Leah and Abby? I JUST LOVE EVERY CHARACTER IN THIS UNIVERSE TOO MUCH BYE


	4. Chapter 4

Abby and Nick leave around ten, holding hands and giggling while they exit the bar. I catch Leah’s gaze, and we exchange looks. She’s been talking to Garrett and I have a feeling like he’s been waiting for a good opportunity to steal a kiss from her. But Leah’s kind of hard to get. She’s not playing it, though, she just has high standards, which is good for her, I guess.

Bram is really quiet. He’s returned to the love seat and is sitting all by himself. I don’t know what we could talk about other than school, and we have checked that topic off the list already, so I keep my mouth shut and just look at him from time to time.  
He’s also quite tall, as far as I can tell, but then, every guy seems tall when you’re barely 5“7. His hair is curly but cut too short to form actual locks, and he has warm, kind of intense brown eyes. For the last minutes, he’s been drumming his fingers on his thighs non-stop, and I’m close to asking him if he’s alright when he finally speaks up.

„Why did you choose a theatre major?“

School again. Alright then.

„I don’t know“, I shrug, „I’m not good at science, I have quite a thing with sentence fragments so English wasn’t an option, and I kinda just like being someone else for a while.“

„Makes sense“, he nods, „Especially the latter. I’d like to be someone else sometimes.“

„I think everybody does“, I say, „What about you, though, why the English major?“

„I guess I like to write?“

„Yeah sure, but is that the only reason?“, I ask.

He’s quiet for a minute, and it seems like he’s battling his mind about whether he wants to say what he’s thinking or not. Finally, his tongue licks over his bottom lip, and he answers: „I think it’s kinda the same thing as theatre actually. When I write, I create characters, and I lose myself in them and their adventures. So I become someone else for a while as well.“

„I like that perspective.“ I raise my Sprite at him, and he clinks his Coke against it.

 

***

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 23 August at 12:58 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: A Dinner Date
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I’ve actually never heard of said webcomic, but it sounds like a cool concept. I might check it out.
> 
> About the kids, though. Good thing you mentioned it first. I want at least two of them. Adopted. Girl first, then boy. (I might let you talk me into a third child, though. I’m imagining you with a sad puppy face right now. Cute.)
> 
> (Ignore that I just called you cute in our third email. Please and Thank you.)
> 
> I am, in fact, at Columbia, but I won’t tell you what I major in. One, because it’s a boring thing to talk about, and two, because it’s my turn to ask the first question now! I’m just gonna copy it from the app and paste it here, hold on.
> 
>       1. If you could have dinner with any person, dead or alive, who would it be?
> 

> 
> I don’t know what your answer is supposed to tell me about you, but I’m curious anyway. I’d definitely have dinner with this one really cute guy from one of my courses. I know, it sounds lame, and it’s probably kind of wrong, since _we_ are supposed to fall in love, but it’s not like I’d ask him out, like, ever. I’m too shy for that. So the only way for me to really fall in love with someone would be over the internet. (So, we’re pretty much meant to be, Jacques.)
> 
> — Blue

 

It’s Friday afternoon and I’m sitting on the kitchen counter in our apartment, smiling like an idiot at my phone screen.

„You look creepy“, Leah says, „What’s the matter?“

I shake my head and lock my phone. „Nothing. But, hey, I haven’t seen you since yesterday evening. Thanks again for leaving me alone in the bar.“

„Sorry.“ She blushes slightly.

„Where did you and Garrett go anyway?“

„Oh, we just went for a walk, and he brought me home afterward“, she mumbles.

„Going for a walk means kissing, am I right?“

„No.“

„Leah.“

„Okay, maybe.“ She pokes at the egg she’s frying in the pan.

„Oh my god!“, I squeal, „Why didn’t you wake me up and tell me already?“

She rolls her eyes. „Simon! I don’t know. I like Garrett, I suppose, but I’m not, like, _dying_ right now. I might just like him as a friend, I’m not sure.“

„Ugh“, I make, „Imagine having so much game that you could allow yourself to friendzone someone.“

Leah snorts, „I swear, you’re such a desperate gay. What were those looks for Nick, huh?“

„Pssshhh!“

She giggles.

 

***

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 23 August at 4:01 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: A Dinner Date
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> wow. I’m kind of hurt that you’re still looking at other guys when we are supposed to make history here. I’m just kidding. The fact that you’re only able to fall in love over the internet, email in said case, is my silver lining. I will fight for you, Blue.
> 
> I’d definitely invite Elliott Smith for dinner. He’s dead, in case you didn’t know that. I pretty much live for his songs. They’ve helped me so much when I was struggling in high school. I’d invite him for a giant pizza with a cheese crust, and just thank him for existing.
> 
> I just looked at the app, and I have the second question for you ready! Do you want to hear it? Are you curious? This is exciting!
> 
> — Jacques


	5. Chapter 5

„Hi.“ I sit down in a desk next to Bram on Monday morning. Just for the record, I consider every 8 am class a major crime.

He looks up from the paper he’s been scribbling on and quickly shoves his pencil case over it as if to hide something. „Oh, good morning.“

„Is it, though?“ I pull my shoulders up to my head and look at him just like Thor does in the meme.

To my surprise, and my relief, he actually laughs. That’s the controversy with bringing up meme jokes in real life: People are either cool and know them, or they aren’t cool and don’t.

I drum the one pen I brought to class against my perished textbook. Bram, in contrast, has a full map of pens in different colors, two textbooks, and a fancy-looking notebook.

„So, uhm, do you like Marvel?“ I ask into the silence between us.

He tears his gaze away from his fingers to look at me again. „Yes, I do. Why?“

„Because you knew the meme“, I say.

„Oh“, he makes, „Yeah, that. I mean, I do love Marvel, but I also just know basically every meme. Oh man, does this make me sound like a weirdo?“

„No“, I laugh, „It makes you sound like a cool person.“

„I doubt that.“

„Yeah, maybe I’m not the best person to decide whether one is cool or not. But in my opinion, you are.“

He turns his face away from me, fumbling with his books for a second.

„To be honest, I don’t know how much of a superhero fan you are, but I’ve never seen any Marvel movies except the Iron Man ones. I just know the other ones from memes“, I say.

His head snaps back. „What?“

„Yeah, I know, I know, bad millennial.“ I raise one hand in defense.

„No“, he says, „Bad _human being_.“

„I’m offended“, I laugh.

„I don’t know if I can still talk to you“, Bram says in a mock-disappointed voice, „Tell me, have you at least read Harry Potter?“

„Of course I have!“, I say in next to no time.

„What house are you in?“

„Hufflepuff“, I say, „And, let me guess, you’re in Ravenclaw.“

He narrows his eyes. „I don’t know if I can give you that. I mean, I’m quite obvious about that.“

I grin at him. „Well, that’s not my fault. I get the point.“

„Since when are we giving out points, though?“, he asks.

„Since this started to be fun.“

 

***

 

Do you know what I hate? Never mind, I’ll tell you. Alternate endings. I hate it in when they’re included in movies, and what I hate even more is when our professor asks us to write one ourselves. For the Great Gatsby of all things. I mean, how is there supposed to be an alternate ending without basically re-writing the entire novel?

I have my head laying weakly on my arms by the end of the lecture, just waiting for it to be over already. I told Leah I’d meet her and Garrett for breakfast, but I might just fall asleep right here and now.

„Hey, uhh…“ Bram scratches the back of his head. The professor must’ve dismissed us since everyone is getting up and gathering their things. „Do you still want me to help you out with, uh, that homework?“

„Fuck, yes, of course!“ I lift my head up. „Good that you say it, I completely forgot about that. But I really, really could use some help. First of all, I hate alternate endings, second of all have I never read the Great Gatsby in its entirety.“

„How did you even make it through High School?“ He gets up from his seat, grinning.

„Don’t ask me that. I literally have no idea“, I laugh, „Okay, uh, do you want me to give you my number so you can text me about when we could meet?“

„Oh.“ He quickly lets his gaze fall down to his shoes. „Uh, yes. Sure. One second.“ He fumbles with the pocket of his jeans and eventually gets his phone out. It’s the newest iPhone and it still looks neat and almost unused.

Good thing I have my number memorized so I won’t need to get mine out, which is not exactly new and has a giant crack in the top left corner.  
I quickly type my number into the gadget and hand it back to him. „Here you go.“

„Alright“ He looks down on his phone. „Simon…Spier?“ He pronounces my last name wrong. This happens a lot. People often pronounce it with the i-sound because it’s more prominent than he e-sound.

„Spier“, I say, „Like beer.“

„Oh.“

„So, just text me whenever you’re free“, I say, taking my textbook in my hands because, of course, I didn’t bring a bag.

„I will.“

 

***

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 25 August at 10:08 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Cheesy
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I know it’s been a couple of days since your last email, but what can I say? It’s your fault. You introduced me to Elliott Smith with your last email, and now listening to his songs is all I want to do.
> 
> Also, your email address is an A+ of a lyric choice from him, if I do say so myself.
> 
> Also, giant pizza with cheese crust sounds like a game I’d like to participate in. I may be a little too obsessed with cheese, just so you know. When I was little, my mom used to gratinate everything with cheese because I simply refused to eat anything else. She gratinated everything, Jacques. Even fruit.
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: Also, yes, go for that second question! I’m ready! And excited!

 

I sit with Garrett and Leah, who are just disgustingly cute together, and shove one sweet potato fry after another into my mouth while simultaneously smiling like an idiot. I can already tell even if Blue and I don’t end up falling in love, that we will at least become friends. He seems like such an open-minded and just all-around nice person.

„Hey, what’s up?“, Leah asks over her Caesar salad, „Why are you grinning like that? Oh my god, Simon, if it’s another het—“

„It’s not“, I interrupt her. There’s no need for her to bring up my past with straight guys in front of Garrett. It’s not like I’ve had a lot of boyfriends; to be exact, I had none. I have kissed guys and I have done other things, but the boys I do that with have a tendency of telling me that _normally,_ they’re _completely_ straight.

„Who is it then?“, Leah asks.

„Yeah, who is it, Spier?“ Garrett wiggles his eyebrows, putting an arm around Leah’s shoulders.

„Yeah, okay, no“, I say, „I’m sorry, Garrett, but you’ve just entered the Holy Circle and I’m not sure whether I want to kick you back out yet.“

He laughs. „Okay, okay. I’ll be the silent watcher then.“

I shake my head, eating up the last couple of fries and getting up from my chair. „I need to go to the bookstore. See y’all.“

„The bookstore?“, Leah snorts.

 

***

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 25 August at 12:31 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Cheesy
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> Oh my god, that sounds like you’ve had the most amazing dishes of food growing up. Cheese should be essential to every meal. Same goes for Oreos. And Reese’s. And possibly Snickers.
> 
> Oh man, I just had lunch but now I’m hungry again. Anyway. I’m glad you like Elliott Smith, but I’m not exactly surprised about that. You seem like a person with good taste.
> 
> So, the next question: Would you like to be famous? (I’m adding something. If you’d like to be famous, then for what?)
> 
> Okay, here’s a thing. It might be a little embarrassing, but I sometimes fantasize about being famous. Like an actor or something, doesn’t really matter. And during these moments I’m convinced I’d be such an idol for everyone. I’d use my influence for only the right purposes.
> 
> But then I remember that I sometimes get a hangover from eating too much pasta and I quit that idea.
> 
> — Jacques
> 
>  

So I bought a copy of The Great Gatsby and I’m actually reading it. And it’s not too bad. Sure, it’s boring and _too much_ at some points but it’s not the worst white guy shiterature.

I’m sitting on a bench in Morningside Park and I’m almost through the second act when my phone buzzes.

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 25 August at 1:58 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Cheesy
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> thank God I’m not the only one giving interviews into their toothbrush at night! Haha. So, yeah. I guess I would be lying if I told you I wouldn’t like to be famous sometimes. But the idea of having my face out there? No, thanks. I think I’d remain anonymous. It’s kind of my thing, I guess.
> 
> Fine. Next one: Do you ever practice what you’re going to say before you get on the phone? (Bahaha, your answer is going to tell me a lot about you, Jacques.)
> 
> — Blue
> 
>  
> 
> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 25 August at 2:11 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Cheesy
> 
> What do you mean practice what I’m going to say? I mean, imagine your phone ringing. You can’t tell me you actually run through an entire conversation before you actually pick up. Who does this??
> 
> So yeah, I never practice what I’m going to say.
> 
> Okay, no, that’s a lie. I practiced my Coming Out, like, months ahead. But then I ended up completely winging it anyway. Is it too soon to ask you about your Coming Out? I’m sorry if I come across as nosy — I guess I kind of am.
> 
> — Jacques

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 25 August at 2:51 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Who does this?? Uhhh MEEEE
> 
> I’m actually laughing, Jacques. What do you mean you _never_ practice what you’re going to say? I _always_ do that. Never once do I speak up before running through it at least ten times in my head. And most times I don’t pick up the phone at all when it’s ringing.
> 
> Sometimes I even wish the world just existed over text. I’m so much better like that. Eleven times less awkward.
> 
> I imagine you winging you’re Coming Out like you’re sitting in the middle of class — probably English in first period — and then just screaming it out. I’M G-A-Y. Would have been iconic. But now I’m curious for real. What was it like?
> 
> Regarding my Coming Out Story…it’s pretty much non-existent. I’m not out. _Yet_. I thought I could just be out and proud once I started college, but guess what? It’s not that easy.
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: Don’t forget the next question. It’s your turn! ;-)

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 25 August at 3:11 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Oh god you ARE a loser
> 
> BAHAHA, imagine me screaming ‚I’m gay!‘ In my English teacher’s face. To be fair, he was such a chill dude, he probably wouldn’t have cared.
> 
> But no. I came out to my best friend first. It was incredibly hard because I’ve known her since I was four. So she had this set idea of me in her head, and I had no idea how I was supposed to tell her about this huge part of me and still come out of it feeling like me.
> 
> So I made this huge plan about how to sit her down and talk to her. But in the end, she rang my doorbell and I opened the door and told her right there on the spot. With my whole family in the background. So I simultaneously came out to them too. It was a weird night, let me tell you.
> 
> _Oh_. You’re not out. Okay. I don’t know where you’re from (you don’t need to tell me, no pressure), but isn’t New York, like, the easiest place to be gay? Nobody cares. Like, sometimes I wish they would, regarding these two guys that basically dry-hump each other in the hallways. Do you know who I mean? I bet you do.
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: Oh, right. What is a _perfect day_ like for you?
> 
> PPS: Let me guess. A bath in melted cheese.

 

Not even a minute after I sent my email, my phone buzzes again. I don’t think it’s a surprise I haven’t made it through Gatsby yet. I unlock my phone with the same huge grin on my face that just doesn’t want to disappear ever since Blue and I started chatting today.

But it isn’t a response to my email.

 

> (Unknown number): yo, it’s Bram
> 
> (Unknown number): I just wanted to ask if you still want my help regarding Creative Writing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. So, this isn't my favourite thing I've ever written, clearly, and I understand if you don't really like this chapter ;__; It will get better again, oinky promise


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter or sushi appreciation post - who knows

Bram and I are on for Thursday night. We’re planning on getting takeout dinner together at his place, which might sound like a date, except we’ll be discussing Jay Gatsby all night long.

You would think I’d have read the novel by then. But no. I’m far too distracted by Blue. We’re texting almost non-stop. His perfect day would consist of reading and watching Harry Potter, and then dissing the Cursed Child — which I completely agree with. _We are meant to be_.

He asks me when the last time was that I sang, either to myself or to someone else, and I tell him that I pretty much sing all the time, much to my roommate’s distaste. He tells me about his friends who all have these High School Musical like voices, and then there is him, sounding like a dying frog.

Now I sound like a dying frog laughing about that in the subway on my way to Bram’s.

I’m wearing long sweatpants and a hoodie which Leah mocked me for because normally it’s my go-to outfit for a hook-up, since, you know, it’s quick and easy to get off. Except then there was a knock at the door and there was Garrett in the exact same outfit. I just winked at her on my way out.

I am, in fact, not planning to hook up with Bram. I mean, I don’t even know his sexuality. And I don’t really care to be honest. Although, I haven’t hooked up with someone in a while. To be honest, I haven’t even been _thinking_ about it.

So, Bram lives in Manhattan. At the top of an apartment building in a freaking loft. He has these brick walls that are plastered over with white paint. And he actually seems to use his kitchen for more than just storing boxes of cereal.

„So, uhm.“ I spin around myself once as I stand in the middle of the open living room. „Not to be rude, but are you, like, rich?“

He stands there, leaning against the bricks, also in sweats _(thank God)._ „Let’s say I can take care of myself.“

„But you’re not like an African prince or something, right?“

He looks down on his brown wrists. „Actually, I was born in Savannah.“

„Oh, God, no, I didn’t mean…“ I bite my bottom lip. Just shut the fuck up, Simon.

He looks back up at me, grinning from ear to ear. „No worries. My grandparents are from West-Africa, actually. But as far as I know, they aren’t royals. Unfortunately.“

I scrunch my nose in an attempt to smile back at him. „Alright. Uhm…“ Tapping my fingers against my thighs I search for something to talk about. „So you’re from Savannah.“

„Yeah.“

„I’m from Atlanta.“

I didn’t think it was possible but his grin goes even wider. „Oh, that’s cool. Someone else from the great modern state of Georgia!“

I plop down on an Ikea chair and pull one foot up too. „Yeah. Isn’t it great down there? Especially coming out there was so much fun.“

Bram’s eyes fall immediately away from me. For a moment, I’m scared he’s going to say something mean, but then he just nods silently. Honestly, that’s kind of my favorite reaction when I casually tell them I’m gay. The quiet acceptation. I sort of developed a strong hatred for the _„Oh, I didn’t think you were gay!“_ or _„Oh my god, you look totally straight!“_ reaction.  
First of all, how do you even _look_ straight? I mean, I’m not even trying, I just wear whatever I want. Which is hoodies. Always hoodies.  
Second, it isn’t flattering in any way to tell me you didn’t think of me as gay. Gay is not an insult. In fact, it’s who I am and I’m freaking proud of it.

„So, what are we having for dinner?“, I ask.

Bram sits down on the chair across from me. „So, I was thinking sushi, but I don’t know—“

„Yes“, I say immediately.

He lets out a short, breathy laugh. „Okay, I like you.“ And, okay, now he’s hardcore blushing. „My roommate actually hates sushi with such a passion, I’m only allowed to get it when he’s gone.“

„Your roommate?“, I ask.

Bram nods. „Weird dude. But I love him, though. He’s from New York actually. He’s out now but, depending on how long we’re busy, you might get to meet him.“

„Okay.“ I smile. „Well, not to be mean, but good thing he’s gone so we can get the biggest amount of raw fish wrapped in rice and algae there is.“

„Agreed.“

 

***

 

Our sushi arrives half an hour after ordering, and we still haven’t started with the assignment. Instead, we’re sitting on the couch, chopsticks in hand.

Bram laughs. It’s the first time I see him do a full-on, audible laugh. „What do you mean you still haven’t read it?“

„Well, I tried, okay?“, I say.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at the same time. „You have to tell me how you got through High School, honestly.“

„Okay.“ I do a little drum-roll with my chopsticks on the plastic carton of the sushi, then I throw him an intense look. „The truth is… I’m a genius.“

He laughs again, and with a _very_ slight clench of my guts, I realize this might become my favorite sound ever.

 

After dinner, we’re talking _Gatsby_. Or we’re not really talking. We’re reading and marking up sentences, and I’m on the verge of despair because I am _so bored_. I get my phone out to check the time. It’s almost nine. But what really catches my eye is the notification of a new email. Without thinking twice, neither of Bram nor _Gatsby_ , I open it.

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 28 August at 6:41 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: I’m Beyoncé
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I’m glad you would endure my awful singing if that meant I was at least with you. I have to say, I kind of feel the same way. It’s crazy. Probably not the same for you, but you know so much about me already. Like, I never talk about my anxieties to anyone, really. And I would kind of like to know what you look like, too.
> 
> But that would screw over the whole experiment, so no. Also, I’m a little too scared, or insecure, or whatever.
> 
> Okay, so your question is a little tricky. „If you were able to live to the age of 90 and maintain either the mind or the body of a 30-year-old for the last sixty years of your life, what would you choose?“ Hmmmmm.
> 
> I mean, if I were to keep the thirty-year-old mind, does that mean I wouldn’t be able to learn new things? I guess so, right? Okay, so here’s what I would do: I would start working out like crazy the day I turn twenty-nine, so I have the body of an actual Greek God by the time I’m thirty. And then I would choose to keep the body forever. And then, because I don’t have to worry about working out anymore, I’m going to spend all my time reading and educating myself. Tada! Best of both worlds. Imagine me doing the Hannah Montana swing.
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: Oh God, so the next question is kinda morbid but also strangely interesting. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 28 August at 8:56 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: I’m Beyoncé
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> First thing, I shouldn’t write to you right now, because I’m supposed to do my homework. So this is bad. You’re bad, a bad distraction.
> 
> Anyway, your answer is pretty genius. And I like to imagine you as a Greek God. Although I think you’re pretty hot the way you are.
> 
> I can’t believe I just wrote that.
> 
> So, back on track, how will I die. Hm. Can’t say I’ve ever really thought about this. To be honest, I’ll probably die of clumsiness. You might think clumsiness is adorable — but then you meet me and you realize it could actually kill someone.
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: I’ll text you later with the next question. Can’t look it up right now. I hate old white man’s shiterature homework.

 

When I put my phone back out of reach and look up, I see Bram has gotten his phone out as well. He’s smiling, leaning his head against a throw pillow on the sofa. But once he notices my gaze on him, he locks his phone and immediately shoves it back into his pocket.

„So, I have an idea for you alternate ending“, he says, sitting up straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that I cannot use emojis here, so...imagine the smirking emoji. A BIG smirking emoji. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, i'm not dead!

It’s almost midnight when I have a first draft ready. It’s pretty shitty, but as Bram says, no one’s ever going to read your first draft except you. And he’s pretty strict on that because he won’t let me read what he wrote. He nudges his elbow into my side whenever I try to peak onto his laptop screen, and when he does it for the third time, I simply grab a hold of his arm and practically throw myself onto him to get a glimpse of the words.

It doesn’t work. He’s stronger than me, and before I know we are wrestling on the rug before the couch, pulling the blankets and throw pillows down with us.

„Okay, okay!“, I screech as he lays diagonally on my chest, pinning both my wrists on the ground with one of his hands. He has big hands. Kind of adorable knobby fingers.

He looks at me, our chins only a few inches apart. _I did not expect this to go that way._ I feel his eyes wandering to my mouth, and they are so warm and deep that I feel myself slowly getting lost in them.

The front door bursts open with so much force it hits the wall behind it. Bram and I drift apart as if stung by a wasp.

A dude with white-blonde hair comes into the living room area, tossing his backpack to the side, where it bursts open, spilling papers and pens everywhere. He stops sharp when he sees Bram and me, now sitting, on the floor in a mess of pillows. „Oh. Hi?“

„Hey“, Bram says, „Cal, this is Simon Spier. Simon — Cal Price.“

Cal gives me a quick wave. „Nice to meet you. Uh, Bram, just know I sent you some outlines.“

Bram nods.

For a moment we’re all frozen, unaware of what to do next. But then Cal excuses himself to the bathroom and Bram gets up, grabbing his laptop and school stuff.

„I’m just going to bring this to my room“, he says, eyes laying on me for a little too long.

 

***

 

Now I’m on my way back home in the subway, and I’m thinking about Bram, and Bram with Abby, and Bram with me. This all of a sudden got really confusing. I mean, he is definitely hot, and there was _something_ , but I could easily be misreading things.

My phone buzzes in my pocket twice just when I’m in front of my apartment door. It’s a new email from Blue as well as a message from Bram. I open Bram’s now; Blue belongs in my bedroom. Literally.

 

 

> Cute Bram Greenfeld: Tonight was fun but
> 
> Cute Bram Greenfeld: We didn’t watch a single Marvel movie…

I grin at this. He’s right, though. We have been so busy with writing and chatting, I completely forgot about the movies we wanted to watch. I mean, _he wanted to watch a movie with me…_ _How am I supposed not to get my hopes up, huh?_

 

 

> Simon: Dammit
> 
> Simon: please don’t abandon me, I swear it’s going to be the first thing we’ll do the next time we hang out
> 
> Simon: + I really need more of your help because that first draft? Utter bullshit.
> 
>  

I walk in on Leah and Garrett making out on the couch. Garrett is only in his underwear and Leah is wearing his shirt. I mean, I knew it judging from the outfit he came here in.

When Leah hears the door falling shut, she pushes him away from her. „Shh! The kid is home. Hey, peanut!“

„Hi“, I say, trying my hardest not to judge Garrett who is currently abusing one of the innocent throw pillows to hide his boner.

„There’s pizza left in the kitchen.“

„I already had sushi“, I say but go to grab a slice anyway. It’s cold but the cheese is still perfectly gooey.

„Fancy!“ Leah covers her bare legs with a blanket. „Who was that study-date with again?“

„It wasn’t a date“, I argue, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch. „But. With Bram. From the bar. Remember?“

Garrett finally puts his pants back on but stops mid-motion. „Greenfeld?“

„What?“

„Bram Greenfeld?“, he repeats.

„Yeah, the one from the bar. Like I said“, I repeat, „Why?“

Garrett shrugs. „Just wondering.“

I flash him a side-eye. This dude is weird. „Anyway. I know you’re giving me the judging look, Leah, but I swear we didn’t hook up. He’s probably straight.“

_Is he, though?_

„Well.“ Leah ruffles my had from the back to the front. „Wouldn’t be the first time you hooked up with a _straight_ guy, would it?“

Garrett wiggles his brows. „Damn, Spier. You really running around turning people?“

I roll my eyes. „Shut up, Garrett.“

„Si has a notorious history with hetero guys who’d go surprising length for his cute butt“, Leah says, also wiggling her brows. _These two, I swear._

I clap a hand against my forehead. „Please, for the love of _God_ , shut your mouth, Burke.“

She giggles. She _never_ giggles. „Oh-oh. We’re on last name basis. It’s serious.“

I throw the pillow that has been laying in Garrett’s lap at her. „We did nothing but read and write. Okay? School stuff. And we ordered sushi because he can only ever get sushi when his roommate is out.“

„Cal“, Garrett says and I nod. Way to go with the insider knowledge, Garrett! „Yeah, he was supposed to come to the bar as well that night. But he was busy. He’s a cool dude. He and Bram draw this webcomic together. It’s kind of huge. Haven’t read it, but from what I have seen it looks pretty sweet.“

„Webcomic?“

„Yeah. They’re both crazy talented. You should probably talk to them more.“ He nudges Leah with his shoulder. „Plus, Bram has a way with words. He does all the dialogues and stuff.“

„Webcomic?“, I repeat and I notice my voice becoming a little shriller to the end of the word. Suddenly I remember Bram in our 8 am class, sketching something.

„It’s something with a superhero.“

Leah makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat that pretty much translates to Oh no.

„What?“, Garrett asks when he sees our faces.

„Simon is whipped for that webcomic.“

„I am not _whipped_ “, I protest, although I definitely am.

 

***

 

Now it’s three in the morning and I’m up rereading the entirety of said webcomic, _Blue Lightning_. Except this time around I have Bram on my mind. And Cal. _Who of them had the idea of a gay kid with a superhero identity,_ I wonder. Probably Cal. He just seems like it. Bram probably contributed to the fact that Benji, the main character, is black.

However, what really keeps me awake is the fact that Benji calls himself Blue. When he is in his superhero costumes he becomes _Blue Lightning. Blue._

But _my Blue_ — being the one from the emails — told me he didn’t know about Blue Lightning. But what if that’s just him trying to cover up that he is Bram. Or Cal. For what I know it could be either of the two. But then again, it could be anyone. Nothing really tells me that Blue is someone I know. It’s just the name itself, Blue, seems to haunt me.

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 12:31 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: I’m Beyoncé
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> you're one of the clumsy kind, huh? I have to say I've always had a thing for that. I think it's cute. Adorable. It wouldn't be adorable if it killed you, though. Although…in a very _very_ messed up sense of things… Oh God, I don't know.
> 
> Also, I'm apologizing beforehand for all the typos and wrong grammar situations that could potentially occur in this email. I'm very tired. I was up until now doing homework — and I actually _did_ it unlike you. You get distracted very easily, don't you?
> 
> Jacques. I have something to confess to you. I couldn't stop thinking about you all evening. All day, to be honest. I'm constantly thinking of you. Do you think this experiment works?
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: Which one out of all the white man's shiterature are you reading?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at Bram trying to find out who Jacques is....maybe he's suspecting something? OH AND also Simon is the most oblivious person walking on this earth


	8. Chapter 08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist for this story! https://open.spotify.com/user/wqr5akrjyybyus8w88gvhsyqt/playlist/1opWzU58hFMi8UjJbjnFNm?si=zSzFF3rlQ4mpbTVHRJuV6w

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 2:56 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Is this working?
> 
> Blue,
> 
> I think about you a lot, too. The thing, though, is that I'm a tiny little bit scared. I never really talk about it but since I came out I had quite some bad luck with guys.
> 
> First of all, the whole Coming Out Thing wasn't entirely my idea. Well, I mean, I did it, but I wouldn't have done it _right then_ if I would have had a choice. Anyway, that's another story.
> 
> So I moved to New York at the beginning of the summer because I _had_ to get away from home as soon as possible. And you know, it's pretty much a gay paradise here. Except not really.
> 
> I have never been in love, so don't worry, Blue, you'd be my first. I have, however, done, you know, _things_. And nine out of ten times I had the guy telling me afterward that he had a girlfriend. The tenth time he just disappeared in the middle of the night and I never heard from him again.
> 
> Sorry if this is TMI — what I'm trying to say is that I think I need a little more time to really _fall_ for someone. Because I'm scared they will just leave after using me once.
> 
> But I do think about you a lot, Blue. Probably more than I should. And I really, really freaking like emailing you. I like your view on things, it often feels like you're expanding my horizon with your words. I like you, I really do.
> 
> Speaking of, I looked at the app and I'm supposed to tell you three things I think we have in common. I think this is the easiest one yet. So here goes.
> 
>     1. We both love Harry Potter but hate the Cursed Child (of course)
>     2. We both really love cheese (you do love it a bit more, though)
>     3. An easy one: We're both gay.
> 

> 
> Okay, maybe I went to easy on those, who knows? I'm in class by the way. But it's my last one of the day and it's Friday, so I'm going out later tonight. My friends and I went to a karaoke bar the other night and now they've had the idea to do so every Friday. Great.
> 
> — Jacques

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 4:33 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Like the Black family, we pretend that the Cursed Child doesn't exist
> 
> Wait. We're both gay? I did not know that one! Haha, I'm joking. Or I'm trying to.
> 
> Your past encounters with guys sound… I don't know, pretty disappointing? Unless your only interest _was_ hooking up. But then again, it sucks that they turn out to be straight. Or _tell_ you they are.
> 
> Jacques, I'm not going to lie, I have no idea how all of this works. I've never been in love, either. But I have also never kissed someone, let alone had sex. I don't know, maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I think I really want it to happen with someone I love. Which is not saying that I'm judging you. I'm not. I wish I could be that carefree and go out and _just do it_.
> 
> You never really told me everything about your Coming Out Story. I'd like to know, but only if you're comfortable.
> 
> My next question for you is: For what in life are you most grateful?
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: Also, no, I'm not going out tonight, I think. I rarely ever do. But have fun! And don't let the straights get to you.

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 5:16 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: HAHAHA that last subject line though
> 
> Hm. I feel obligated to answer that question with "My friends and family — of course!", but you know…they sometimes suck, too. Especially when they force you to leave the house even though you have a pile of homework sitting on your desk. Just kidding, I don't even have a desk. I do my homework in my bed.
> 
> But if we disregard the fact that we are humans with emotional connections, I'd say I'm most thankful for the internet. I mean, it's just a great place, isn't it? You can meet the best people there. ;-)
> 
> (Which brings me back to friends and family, but… Dammit!)
> 
> About my whole Coming Out Story… Another time, Blue. I want to tell you, just not when I'm in a rush.
> 
> Okay, I feel like we're moving along fast. Here goes my next question:
> 
> Would you like to change something about the way you were raised as a kid?
> 
> — Jacques

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 5:53 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: HAHAHA that last subject line though
> 
> I was thinking the same thing! Of course you answer with "my friends and family", and of course they are what you are most grateful for in life, unless you're a sociopath. But I'm also really grateful for the internet. I think it wouldn't quite make the race for me, though. I'm even more grateful that books exist. Books just make me happy, and a little nostalgic — but in a good way.
> 
> To be honest, I grew up quite happily. I think my parents did a good job raising me. Maybe there are some things I'd like to change — like I always wanted a tree house and never got one — but it's nothing too bad.
> 
> The next question is fun. It's also kind of nosy. But hey, what you gonna do?
> 
> Tell your life-story in as much detail as possible. But only in four sentences.
> 
> — Blue
> 
>  

"Right. No one will believe my name is Wilbur. And this picture does _not_ look like me." I look down at the ID in my hand. It's a new one, fresh out of print — oh yeah, and it's fake.

"Of course the picture looks like you." Leah peeks over my shoulder. "It _is_ you, you complete moron."

"Yeah, but it's me with a freaking mustache. Leah, you're only poking the wound that I'm not able to grow facial hair."

" _I_ didn't make these", she argues, "It was Garrett. Or it was him who had the connections. I don't even know, this kid has _layers_."

"Ew. You sound in love." I scrunch my nose at her.

She ruffles my hair. "Come on, go shower, put on some jeans, and let go of your fucking phone for once, okay? We're on for seven tonight!"

"Lee, I told you I have homework."

"Blah blah", she makes, "Friends are important, too!"

 

***

 

It's not like I have never had a drink in my life. I definitely had. I don't think you can go through High School without having to drink pure acid out of a red Solo cup at least once. I did it more than just once. But I'm also such a lightweight that two beers are enough to, let's say, lift my mood.

Abby and Nick are at the bar, and then Leah and Garrett, and I'm fifth-wheeling like a pro. I kind of hoped for Bram to be here. Or Cal.

_"I'm not going out tonight, I think"_

"The second beer for Spier." Garrett hands me the bottle.

"Leah, I will never forgive you for telling him that joke."

"It is what got you through High School!", she laughs, "Anyway. Are you going to sing?"

I take a long sip before I notice she's still talking to me. "Me? No no no. I won't sing. I'm not weary of life!"

"Okay, shut up, you're a good singer!"

"Come on!", Nick says, "I did it. It's only fair that you do it as well."

"Woah, _you_ did it because you a) enjoy it, and b) are talented", I say.

Nick raises both his hands to cup his mouth and shouts across the room to the guy at the karaoke machine, "Hey! We've got another volunteer over here!"

I close my eyes for a second. _He did not._

 

***

 

But Nick did. And so I'm forced to go up on stage. The thing with karaoke bars, though, is that their song assortment is pretty limited. It's mostly classic rock or early 2000s bops — there's not really an in-between.

The more am I relieved when I spot the 1975's _Somebody Else_ on the track list. It's not an easy song to do by any means, but at least I won't make as much of a joke of myself as if I'd choose Avril Lavigne's Skater Boy.

I'm glad the only people really paying attention to me are my friends, everyone else is mostly occupied with socializing. Although, when the chords kick in, I suddenly wish everyone _but_ my friends was looking at me.

I close my eyes as soon as the first words leave my mouth. Singing the song, and doing it at least half justice, is kind of hard. I have to tense up my (non-existing) abs to get the sound out right.

The other thing with karaoke bars is, and it's a good thing, that the songs are only half the length of the original. And because _Somebody Else_ is not the usual three-minute song, in fact, it is almost _six_ minutes long, it is trimmed to be around a two-minute long performance.

The most awkward two minutes of my life if you don't count my first ever blow-job.

 

"Fuck, Spier", Garrett cusses, "You were ama-zing." He really pronounces the word in two syllables. I think it's half cute and half pretentious.

I plop back down on my beanbag and empty my beer in one long sip. Probably not the best idea. All I want to do right now is shut the world around me down and get lost in my phone.

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 8:26 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: I just did karaoke and now I'm telling my life-story…
> 
> …why does this sound like the beginning of every single one of the hook-ups I've had? I'm laughing. But okay, I'll try.
> 
> So, my name is Jacques (it's not…but hey), I have two sisters and a dog, who all live back at home where I'm from, which I cannot really tell you about, so sorry. I've always had a secret hunch that I was gay but didn't properly come out until I was seventeen — and then only because I _had_ to (again, the whole story another time). I always wanted to move to New York and star in a Broadway Play — this hasn't happened yet, but your boy can dream. I'm a really freaking clumsy person, and my mind is often scattered all over the place, so I really don't know what else to tell you — there haven't been too many traumatic instances in my life…Oh God, I'm so bad at this.
> 
> Also, I've already had two beers. Don't ask how. My best friend has connections nowadays that…make things possible. Although I don't know whether this was a good idea.
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 29 August at 10:23 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: I just did karaoke and now I'm telling my life-story…
> 
> …and it did tell me _nothing_ about you. Come on, Jacques, you can do better than that. Try again. I won't restrict you to four sentences this time. Tell me your story and I will tell you mine. As far as anonymity lets me.
> 
> About the superpower: I'd like to be able to turn invisible every now and again. Flying sounds cool, too, but I have quite a thing with heights…
> 
> If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: Please stay safe when you're drinking.

 

***

 

It's almost eleven and I'm in some kind of happy daze after four beers. Everything feels warm and cozy. But maybe that's just Abby, leaning into my side with her head resting on my shoulder.

Nick has sung two more songs within the last couple of hours and Abby and I decided to take a sip from our beverages of choice whenever someone comes up and asks for a picture with him. Nick Eisner seems to be some kind of living karaoke bar legend.

We are sitting close to the door, so we are the firsts to notice whenever someone new enters the bar. And I just happen to be the first one to spot Bram and Cal. And it's ridiculous how good they both look.

Bram is going for the casual open-button-down-over-white-shirt look, but Cal — he's wearing a leather jacket. He's in all black, and I — I can't speak for a moment.

Garrett jumps up as soon as he sees the both of them to greet them with a hug. Garrett _is_ kind of cute. But not in a _cute_ cute kind of way. He's just cute. Whatever, I'm not making any sense tonight. Too much alcohol on too little body weight.

"Hey, man!" Bram reaches out and shakes my hand before he sits down on the cushion next to me.

Cal gives me a quick wave.

"What the hell!", Nick says, "I thought you were too busy!"

"Cal kind of developed the skill of mega fast drawing", Bram explains.

"It's called copy and paste but whatever", Cal grins.

"Oh." Maybe it is the alcohol inside of me but suddenly I feel the urge to tell Bram how much his comic means to me. "Your webcomic is amazing!"

His head turns to me and his wide smile fades just a little bit. "Oh, I didn't know you knew about it. Did Garrett tell—"

"No", I cut him off, "I found it myself when I first moved here. I really love it. You are freaking talented!"

"Cal does most of the drawing", he says. Either Bram can't take a compliment or he's trying to set me up with Cal here.

"The dialogues are important too", I say.

He shrugs, but I can make out a very slight blush on his cheeks. Then his eyes drift toward my empty beer bottle on the small table in front of us. "Oh, did Garrett get you fakes?"

I nod and reach out for his hand again. "I'm Wilbur."

"Augustus", he replies.

I laugh. "You do not look like an Augustus."

He returns it. "Well, and you don't look like a Wilbur so we're even. Do you want another drink?"

 _What is happening here?_ Cute, shy Bram Greenfeld seems like he fed himself courage for dinner. Or I'm misreading things. I truly don't know. I nod.

 

***

 

So Bram is not the beer type. I don't know what I expected but definitely not screwdrivers. But he's also not as small, _I hate that word_ , as me, so he can take a lot more. I have no idea if I'd ever been this drunk in my life.

Probably. I mean I went to more than one High School party.

Abby and Nick left an hour ago so we took their place on the loveseat. Except we're sitting there with Cal. I'm in the middle. Bram's arm is laying on the backrest behind me.

I scrunch my nose at the taste of the drink.

Bram grins for a second, but then I feel his arm shuffle a little. It brushes against my back. He's taking it back. "Hey, uhm, do you want to go outside for a minute?"

I'm not sure I can stand up. "Sure."

 

We make it outside. I trip over my own feet twice but don't fall over. Which I view as tonight's accomplishment. The karaoke bar is located between two second-hand bookstores on quite a busy street. Bram and I lean against the brick wall, watching cabs and cars speed by for a minute.

"Hey, you don't drink that anymore, do you?" He looks at the drink in my hand. I didn't even realize I took it outside with me.

"It's probably better I don't", I say, slurring the words together a bit. I hand him the glass and he bottoms it up. "I didn't even know you drank."

"Let's just say Cal makes me."

"Oh." _I have to know._ "So, are you and Cal…more than just webcomic co-authors?"

He almost chokes on air. "Oh…no, we're not… I'm not…no."

I nod quickly.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit… Cal and I had a few beers at home already while we were finishing up next week's update. I'm a bit wasted."

_So am I._

"I just…" He takes a deep breath in. "I need some booze to…to talk to you, I think."

I almost break out into laughter. "What? Why?"

"I don't know…I… You—"

"Hey!" The bar door opens and the bartender sticks his head out to us. "You better not steal this glass. It ain't your standard Ikea one so bring that back in here!"

Bram jumps so hard at his angry voice that he almost drops said glass. His eyes go a little soft on me, and then he laughs. It's a very low sound with all the honking and the bartender still yelling for his freaking glass, but I'm reminded nonetheless about how much I love this sound.

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: 30 August at 2:03 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: I just did karaoke and now I'm telling my life-story…
> 
> It would suck if you'd turn invisible from time to time, Brae, then I wouldn't be able to look at your pretty face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is: bad  
> I am: annoyed
> 
> also look at Simon almost writing "Bram" instead of "Blue" in that last email.
> 
> Geez, I'm really sorry about...all of that. I don't know, I kept changing things in this chapter but it didn't get any better. So please don't abandon this fic yet, it's getting better again


	9. Chapter 09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because yesterday's update was so bad it hurt my brains
> 
> ps: pay attention to the time stamps in the emails or you'll be confused sooner or later

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 30 at 3:26 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Oh fUCk
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> I'm sorry for that last email. I had one or two beers too much last night. Be sure I'm burning that fake ID I got. Alcohol is not good for me.
> 
> Did you know all the love songs sung by half-wasted teenagers all reminded me of you?
> 
> I think I'm standing by what I said. It would suck if you turned invisible. I told you before, and I still bet your face is a sweet one.
> 
> God, I'm _so_ hungover, I can't even open my eyes all the way because that would make my head hurt too much, let alone think about a future-telling crystal ball. You know what? I think I would ask if I will ever find love. If this, this right here, is going to work out. Or if _anything_ ever will.
> 
> I know it's cheesy, and lame, and boring, and there are a billion better questions to ask, but I'm in a weird mood. I don't really know where my head is at. You know, I'm really trying to convince myself that I'm the most cynical person ever. Truth is, though, I'm the exact opposite. I dream of the Big Romantic Gesture every night. Whatever it is, I hope it happens to me soon. No pressure on you, though.  
> And I think it's kind of weird, knowing _we_ are supposed to fall for each other. It's the first time I'm really doubting this thing. I'm sorry, I'm not doubting you or your potential to become my perfect boyfriend. I'm doubting anonymity.
> 
> I wish I knew who you were. Because I'm starting to _like_ like you, Blue.
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 30 at 9:20 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Oh fUCk
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I said it before, I would love to know who you are, too. Or not who you are. I think I'm getting quite a good grasp of _who_ you _truly_ are. But I mean what you look like. Who knows, maybe we know each other in real life…
> 
> But I'm also a little, in lack of a better word, competitive. We are already on Question #14, aren't we?  
> Jacques, I really, really want to know what happens if we keep doing this.
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: I guess I dreamed of coming out for quite a long time now. I think the only thing that is truly holding me back at the moment is myself. Sometimes, I feel so courageous, and I almost do it. But then again — it feels like I'm in a cage I built myself.
> 
> PPS: What is the greatest accomplishment in your life?

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 31 at 11:26 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Thank you
> 
> Honestly, Blue. I know you didn't say much in your last email, but it helped. I was just kind of down yesterday. But my best friend's boyfriend got us doughnuts for breakfast this morning so everything is fine again.
> 
> Fun fact: I freaking love matcha green tea doughnuts. They are great and superior to the peanut butter ones.
> 
> My greatest accomplishment in life is easy to name. Getting into Columbia. I don't think anyone expected me to get in. Whatever _that_ means.
> 
> I guess I still owe you my life-story, Blue. I told you, it's not really that special. There is a lot I can't tell you or I'll lose my mask. I don't even know how well I have kept it up until now.
> 
> Seriously though, what do you want to know? My first kiss? Happened with a girl at the dance in seventh grade. Who had the idea to hold dances in freaking _seventh grade_?! Everyone! Is! Awkward! In! SEVENTH GRADE!
> 
> Anyway, I think you're playing for the whole Coming Out Story. And you know what? I'll tell you. My belly is full of matcha green tea so I'm feeling energized and healthy (Yes, I know it was a doughnut but still). So here goes.
> 
> I told you before I was seventeen when I came out. That's true; so not too long ago. I was a junior in high school, and I was a huge theater nerd — so nothing's changed. Anyway, there was this one guy, and I'm just going to tell you his name, because why the fuck not. So, Martin Addison, right? He's that class clown, you know, the complete dork that everyone thinks is weird but kind of likes nonetheless.
> 
> We were pretty good friends and somehow he found out I was gay. Well, not _somehow —_ he saw me googling pictures of Liam Hemsworth shirtless. (It was back when The Last Song came out and everyone was obsessed with him anyway, okay? Don't judge me!)
> 
> But Martin was cool about it. Sure, he made some jokes here and there how and asked if I ever fancied him (ew), but for the most part, I got on with life normally.
> 
> And then he did a thing. After theater practice one evening, he set me up with a guy in the auditorium. Okay, fast forward, it worked out and I had my very first kiss with a guy right then and there. But fucking Martin took a fucking picture and posted it on fucking Facebook.
> 
> I have no idea why he snapped like this, his dumb self probably thought it was cute, but I never talked to him again and I don't ever plan to.
> 
> So after that picture made it on everyone's Facebook feed, I _had_ to come out. Before my friends would see it. And I told you, I thought about how to tell my best friend, but kind of told her right on the doorstep with my family in the background. Luckily they hadn't seen the post yet, so at least I had my own little moment.
> 
> So that's the story. Not my life-story, but the more interesting one. I don't think I ever felt like I was trapped in a cage, though. Or maybe I did but I knew the door was always open. Because I knew I could come out anytime and my family and friends would accept me. My best friend even has a slight obsession with Drarry. So I never _really_ had to worry.
> 
> Blue, I hope you find a way out of your cage soon. Maybe the door is open. Have you checked?
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: What do you value most in a friendship?

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 31 at 12:10 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you
> 
> Jacques,
> 
> You did not just say that green tea doughnuts are better than peanut butter ones, did you? Because that's totally unacceptable. There are few things that are better than peanut butter and green tea is definitely not one of them.
> 
> I'm sorry but that was the downfall of our relationship.
> 
> Obviously, I'm just kidding. But I can predict you, once we've met in person our first irl argument will be over peanut butter.
> 
> Anyway, back to the point of coming out. Your story made me cry. Side note: I cry very easily. But you know, I can't even imagine how you must have felt. I couldn't have managed that. I don't work well under pressure.  
> So, I'm probably very late to the game, but hey, Jacques, I'm proud of you!
> 
> Oof, I promised you to tell you my story in exchange for yours, didn't I? Fine, I'm a fair player.
> 
> I'm going to skip the part where I tell you my name and where I'm from for obvious reasons. So fast forward a little to the end of Senior year. Just like you, I knew I needed to get away from home. But very unlike you, I never would have done it. It was my mom, she's an incredible woman, who basically kicked me out so I can grow as a person. She said she felt like I was holding myself back. Sometimes, I think she knows it. The Gay Thing, I mean.
> 
> So she forced me to take the scholarship to go to Columbia. Don't get me wrong, I was proud to have it, but if it wasn't for her I would have stayed at home and went to college there. Don't ask me why, I know it's dumb, it's just this _holding myself back_ thing — I'm pretty good at it.
> 
> But I moved here, here meaning New York City, and I was so _fucking_ scared out of my mind. I needed to find an apartment, do the whole uni thing, find food, and not die from various panic attacks.
> 
> But here I am, I guess. In my apartment, on the couch, still at uni, emailing a cute guy. It's not too bad after all. And, Jacques, I even think about coming out to my roommate. Like, right now. I'm probably going to chicken out and hide in my room instead, I'll keep you posted!
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: What do I value most in a friendship? Hm. Probably honesty. Or loyalty.
> 
> PPS: What is your most treasured memory?

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 31 at 7:29 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: My most treasured memory
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> wow, you're really sanding in your own way a lot, huh? I mean, when I think about what a struggle it was to get into Columbia and then you almost not going…
> 
> Would have sucked if we never met.
> 
> My most treasured memory is probably when we got our dog. He's a Golden Retriever (I won't tell you his name, though, sorry), and he is the absolute cutest. You know how people _always_ say _their_ dog is the cutest? I mean, of course to them their dog _is_ the cutest. But our dogs is the _absolute_ cutest. Like, I'm sorry, but he's above everyone else's dog.
> 
> I wish I could send you a picture.
> 
> Anyway, it was my dad and me who saw the ad on _eBay_ that there were Golden Retriever puppies for sale in Atlanta. We immediately showed my mom and she said yes. So my dad and I went _that afternoon_ and got one of the puppies. I chose the pudgiest one. No regrets.
> 
> When we brought him home, my sisters were there, too, and they had no idea we were bringing home a dog. My little sister screamed so loud the dog hid under the couch; my big sister cried happy tears.
> 
> I don't know, everyone was just so happy that day. I think I took more pictures that day than every other day combined.
> 
> We ended up getting pizza that night, and _the Bachelor_ was on, and we were all sitting on the couch with the dog — and the freaking dog, this tiny bean, snored so loud that no one could hear the tv. It was perfect.
> 
> Oh, my question is the same but bitter. What is your most terrible memory?
> 
> Please don't make me cry, Blue.
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: DID YOU DO IT? Did you?? AH

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 31 at 8:11 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: My most treasured memory
> 
> *pretends not to notice that you're from Atlanta*

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: August 31 at 11:19 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: My most treasured memory
> 
> Oh SHIT why AM I LIKE THIS

  

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 1 at 6:01 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: My most terrible memory
> 
> Good morning Jacques,
> 
> I just woke up, so sorry if there are any mistakes. I was a little busy yesterday evening, sorry for not texting back earlier.
> 
> Please don't think I'm mad or anything about the Atlanta incident. It truly doesn't tell me anything about you. I don't think I know who you are. But it's funny. You really are a clumsy person.
> 
> It's so cute, Jacques.
> 
> Anyway, why is it that I always get the sour questions? You get to tell me the most wonderful, most beautiful family story and then I have to tell you about…public humiliation in school? This isn't fair.
> 
> My most terrible memory happened in middle school — where else? I think I was twelve. Or thirteen. Anyway, I went to school like every morning, by bike. I lived only a couple of blocks away from the building but I'm a slow walker so I always took the bike.
> 
> I had quite a few cars honking at me. But I didn't care. You know what your parents teach you? To just ignore every minor inconvenience until it eventually stops. So I did that. I ignored the honking cars and the staring kids.
> 
> I went to the bathroom before first period and when I looked in the mirror I _realized_ — I had forgotten to put pants on! And I wasn't wearing boxer shorts yet but these typical slip things with rockets and stars on it.
> 
> So I stared at myself in the mirror for a solid five minutes before it came to me. I had dreamed this before! And every single time I had woken up terrified.
> 
> I was convinced this was another dream.
> 
> So I decided to be brave and to not let it wake me up in a puddle of my own anxiety sweat. It was just a dream! So I walked out of the bathroom, went to class, held a presentation, got an A, and wondered why I didn't wake up.
> 
> Everyone was laughing and taking pictures of me and suddenly there was my mom standing in the doorway with my jeans in hand. And that was when I realized it wasn't a dream.
> 
> Can you guess my nickname for the rest of middle school and halfway through high school?
> 
> I'll tell you. Captain Underpants.
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: What does friendship mean to you?
> 
> PPS: I guess I did it. :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simon is a dumb gay we been knew :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all don't even know how many times I double-checked whether I signed the emails of with "Jacques" or "Simon" and if I, or my beta, missed one I'm going to throw a fit :)

Even though I have someone to talk to now, eight am classes remain the horror. I am not made to exist before noon. Bram is sketching again when I sit down next to him and this time I can actually make out the outline of an UFO through his fingers.

"So, superheroes“, I say, and laugh when he jumps so hard his pencils fly everywhere.

"Uh, yeah“, he makes after he’s gotten himself back together, "Wait… What are we talking about?“

"About all the Marvel movies we did not watch last time we hung out. It’s urgent, Bram, I’m scared you will stop talking to me if I don't watch them soon."

He grins. "Oh, I totally would. On that note, though… I have thought about it, too. Remember Cal, right?“

I nod.

"His parents own this vintage arthouse cinema downtown. They close at nine on Friday nights, because apparently, no one wants to see documentaries on Friday nights, but Cal can sneak us in after then so we can watch the movies on the big screen.“

"Oh my god, for real?“ _I mean, how cool is that? Get yourself a friend like Cal!_

Bram nods. "So, if you’re down for it then—“

"Absolutely.“

"We also have unlimited access to the popcorn machine.“

"Aces!“

"The only thing, though“ Bram looks down on his papers. "Cal wants to come along.“

"Oh.“ I mean, he’s the one making all that possible at least. Bram looks back up and our eyes lock. "That’s cool. Why not?“

 

***

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 1 at 1:49 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: My most terrible memory
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> I read your email first thing after I woke up this morning and I couldn't stop laughing all the way to college. I reread it about a hundred times and it's still hilarious.
> 
> If I ever get your phone number I'll totally save your contact as Captain Underpants.
> 
> Sorry that _that_ is your most terrible memory, though. But also not really. I'm still laughing. Please tell me you have more stories like this!
> 
> Regarding the question: Everything, Blue. Friendship means absolutely _everything_ to me. I don't think I would survive without my best friend.

 

"Listen, Garrett, you have to put your mouth closer to the mic!"

"But it looks like a penis!"

I lift my head up from the pillow it's been resting on and lock my phone. It's been a while since I've heard Leah recording something for her podcast. She has most of the episodes pre-recorded.

I can't even be bothered to put my jeans back on — jeans are for college, not for bed — I just leave my room in my boxer shorts. It's just Garrett after all.

Indeed, there they are, sitting around the small kitchen table on our cheap, off-white plastic chairs, with headphones on, talking into a silver microphone. _It does look like a penis._

"So" I pretzel my arms in front of my chest, leaning against the doorframe. "Garrett's allowed on your podcast but I am not? Homophobia."

Leah, already annoyed by Garrett's distaste of the mic, rolls her eyes at me. "Don't you have classes?"

"I had an 8 am one today, isn't that enough?", I say, "And don't change the topic. Why am I not allowed on your channel?"

"Because", she says, "your voice climbs about three octaves higher and people over the age of twenty-five would not be able to hear you."

"Hey, my voice is fine."

"Sure, as long as you stick to singing and don't know how many people are listening to your words." She brushes her hair out of her face. "So, this was my roommate and, I'm afraid, also my best friend and theater major, Simon Spier — what a disaster."

"Wait, are you live?" My voice gets shrilly immediately.

Garrett nods.

I cover my mouth and Leah laughs. "See, I told you. Anyway, if anyone is gay and interested: Simon's _single_!" She says the last word in a very cringey sing-song voice.

Garrett almost falls off his chair from laughing so hard. Because apparently, my face looks as if I just ran into a glass door. And Garrett has this weird, breathy laugh that seems to come right out of his stomach, and it sounds hilarious, and it makes Leah laugh, too. I don't know if I've ever seen her this happy.

 

 

 

 

> So, my next question for you, Blue, is: If you would die in a year from now, what would you change about your life?
> 
> — Jacques

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 2 at 8:21 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Death
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I get another question about death, huh? I'm slowly starting to think this experiment is trying to depress me.
> 
> I think the only thing I would really change is that I would try to take more chances. Ask that guy I like out, kiss someone, dance with someone. (Can you believe I have never danced with someone? Peak unpopular kid moment.)
> 
> Question #21: What roles do love and affection play in your life?
> 
> Hey, Jacques, I think I know you well enough already that I can answer that for you. Let me try, okay?
> 
> So, you told me you wish you'd be more cynical, but I think you're actually pretty comfortable with being the huge romantic you are. It's adorable, it really is, Jacques. So what I think is you let love and affection play a huge role in your life, if not the leading one. I think you're one to not fall, but get attached to someone easily. You told me you need a little while longer to truly _fall_ and I believe you, but I think you already know what it feels like.
> 
> — Blue

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 3 at 12:09 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Death
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> here's a late night text from Jacques. You're right about the love and affection question. I definitely get attached easily, and people often tell me that's a bad thing, but you know what? It's not. Not _always_ at least. It's a thing that I like about myself — I make good friends very fast.
> 
> For example, I met a few new people at our karaoke evenings, and now we're friends and get on really well.
> 
> Geez, I'm really freaking tired. I went to the gym today. I lost a bet to my best friend a couple months ago and now I have to go at least once a week. I guess I could do worse, but my yoga class got cancelled today, so I opted for running a couple of miles. Should not have done that. Legs hurt. Butt hurts. Need sleep.
> 
> Goodnight,  
>  Jacques
> 
> PS: The next prompt is for you to name three positive characteristics of me. (I'm flattered, but… only three?? Come on, where should you start?)
> 
> PPS: I'm joking.

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 3 at 11:11 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Death
> 
> Jacques, not to sound mean or anything, but I wouldn't have imagined you as someone who ran. Or did sports in general. Oh my God, are you an athlete? Because I did soccer all through high school and I go to the gym occasionally, but I did let myself go a little as of late. — The struggle of living right next to a German bakery…
> 
> So, tell me, do I need to get back in shape?
> 
> Three positive characteristics about you… Okay, I can do that. You indeed have way more than that.
> 
>     1. You are a really good friend. — I don't know you in real life but I just know this one. You talk about your best friend as if she means everything to you. And I think she _does_ mean everything to you.
>     2. You're a real sunshine. You always light up my mood, Jacques. That is quite difficult in general sometimes, but you manage to do it just over text.
>     3. You feel a little like home. I was first going for _You make me laugh a lot_ , but I opted for this one. I don't know whether you understand what I mean, but… I don't know, I just feel like I can tell you anything and you wouldn't judge me. It feels like I'm safe with you.
> 

> 
> — Blue

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 3 at 9:09 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Me, an athlete? Never in a million years
> 
> Blue,
> 
> You didn't think of me as a guy who did sports and I'm telling you: you were right. My favorite sport is none. Or, that's not true. My favorite sport in high school was skipping drama practice and watching the soccer guys run up and down the field. Preferably when it rained. ;-)
> 
> And I don't believe you. You probably just tell me you're out of shape but I can tell, if we end up meeting in real life you will greet me with a full-on sixpack. At least don't lie about it, Blue. I need to prepare myself.
> 
> (Please don't expect anything muscular from me, though. Believe me, I half-tried to put on muscle-weight once, but I just cannot do it. Also it doesn't quite fit my frame. I'm "smol" as my best friend says.)
> 
> (( _Is_ 5'7 small though?))
> 
> Question #23: What is your favorite candy?
> 
> Let me answer for you. Besides cheese, I know you love peanut butter. So Reese's. Am I right?
> 
> — Jacques
> 
> PS: You feel like home, too, Blue.
> 
>  
> 
> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 3 at 10:01 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Me, an athlete? Never in a million years
> 
> Jacques,
> 
> sorry to break it to you but… 5'7 _is_ small. And fucking cute. Will you ever stop? I can't wait to actually meet you.
> 
> And you're right about Reese's. Except I'd like to do you one better: I love eating Reese's cups on top of cheese crackers. It's delicious and if you haven't tried it you should. (You might get nauseated, though. Or that's just me. I get nauseated super easily — but it doesn't make me stop!)
> 
> — Blue
> 
> PS: I swear I am so _not_ in shape.
> 
> PPS: Do you want picture-proof? ;-)
> 
> PPPS: I'm just kidding.

 

Okay, he really freaking got me there. I'm staring down at my phone, rereading the email over and over again, trying not to obsess over the image of a shirtless Blue — whatever he looks like.

"You look crazy when you're smiling at your phone like this." It's Cute Bram Greenfeld. I'm early for class this Thursday morning. Well, technically it's noon, and the class is just English Literature, which pretty much means sleeping for me. "Like you're plotting."

"What would I be plotting?" I look up at him. Today he looks like he's gone back to shy. _The power of a few beers, I guess_ … He has his hands buried in the pocket of his blue jeans — and _fuck_ , he really looks _so_ good.

"Well, the alternate ending for that Gatsby thing maybe?", he says.

I groan. So loud that Tori Reagen jumps a little in her seat in front of me.

Bram sits down next to me. He's biting down on his bottom lip, the hands still in his pockets. "Uhm… Cal asked when you'll be over the next time."

"Oh. Right, we still need to find a date for the cinema thing", I say.

"Yeah…that, too, I guess that's why he asked. I…" His eyes are glued to the desk in front of him and he takes a few seconds to breathe in deeply. "Do you want to meet again tonight for, you know, Gatsby?"

"For writing you mean."

"Yeah, I don't have actual Jay Gatsby sitting at home." He laughs. It's breathy and nervous, and cute.

"Too bad. But yeah. Of course. Tell Cal!" I click the cap of my pen. "Or don't. So he'll go out and we can order sushi again."

"Deal."

 

***

 

Taking the New York subway is a pain in the ass. I showered approximately an hour ago but once I get off the right station, I feel dirty all over again. Like quadrillions of germs are fighting a tingly battle on my skin. It's weird and kind of sticky.

Bram and I seem to have this unspoken agreement that, whenever I come over, we wear sweats. I can't quite decide whether he looks better in jeans or in sweats. It's two completely different things. One is cute and one is hot, but at the same time, they are interchangeable.

"So Cal is in his room", Bram says as we set our laptops up on the coffee table in front of the couch. "And he said he wants to order dinner later, too, so no sushi."

I stick my bottom lip out a little.

Bram's eyes hang on my mouth for a little, before he clears his throat and scoots back on the couch. "But you can choose. Indian, Mexican, or pizza."

"Wow. Easy. Pizza."

"I knew you were one of those guys."

I raise my eyebrows and ask in a pretend-to-be-offended voice, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He grins but doesn't look at me again. "Nothing. Pizza's good. I'll text Cal and ask what kind he wants."

"Isn't he next door?", I ask.

Bram nods, "Yeah, but he won't hear me if I call him. He's literally _always_ wearing headphones."

"Oh", I make, suddenly a little excited, "What kind of music does he like?"

Bram looks a little caught up in something. He opens his mouth and closes it a couple times, like a fish swimming against the stream, before he finally replies, "Uh, I think he likes Indie stuff. But for more specifics, you have to ask him yourself."

I lean back into the pillows. My laptop, so ready a minute ago, now puts on the screen saver. That seems to be tonight's theme. "What kind of music do _you_ like?"

He tangles his hands in his lap. "I…I don't listen to a lot of music. Like, I do it, but just not in excessive amounts. I…like Elliott Smith, though. And Bleachers. And the 1975. But that's all Cal's fault."

I feel a smile spread across my face. _So, Cal introduced Bram to Elliott Smith, huh? I wonder who showed his music to_ him _… Maybe a certain someone called Jacques?_

"Didn't you sing a song by the 1975 last Friday? In that bar?"

 _Great_ , now I'm blushing. "Oof, I did! Be glad you didn't have to witness that!"

"Actually", he fumbles for his phone in his pocket. "Nick filmed the thing and put it on his Instagram."

"He did _what_?" I immediately scoot closer to him to look over his shoulder down on his phone. And then I almost _aww_ out loud because of the picture he saved as his lock screen. "Who is that?"

"Oh. My little brother. He was born last year."

"Aww." _Wow, I actually_ aww _ed out loud now.  Great, Simon!_

"Was quite a surprise when it happened, but I guess it was exactly the right time. With me eventually moving out, you know." Bram unlocks his phone. He types in the password so fast his fingers almost blur before my eyes. With quick taps and swipes, he opens Instagram and Nick's profile.

"How come I don't follow him yet?" I open Instagram on my own phone.

Bram ignores the question and opens a post. It is actually one of _Nick_ singing. But then Bram swipes to the left and there I am.

"Ugh, turn it off, turn it off!"

He laughs. "No, I like it."

"Oh god, people have seen this." I shake my head and tap the follow button up on Nick's profile.

"Only if they care enough to swipe", Bram says.

"You don't make it any better, Bram." But we both laugh.

 

***

 

Bram and Cal _both_ order extra cheese and a cheese crust with their pizzas. Which only makes me more suspicious. Blue _loves_ cheese. But I guess a lot of people do, right? _I_ love cheese.

"So." Cal is sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite of Bram and me. We actually spent the last hour writing. Or revising, more like. "When are y'all free for the cinema?"

"Y'all?", I repeat, "Are you from the south as well? Bram told me you're from New York."

"I am", Cal says, "I just say y'all a lot. I don't even think it's just a southern thing anymore, is it?"

"Geez, I don't know." I flinch back as I almost burn my mouth on a hot cheese string. "Alright. About the cinema. Let's go after this assignment is done." I nod toward my laptop.

"When will that be?", Cal asks.

"It's due in a week", Bram answers for me. "But we can't go that Friday or the Friday after that. Remember?"

Cal nods. Then he looks at my confused face and says, "Someone called us and asked whether we were interested in _printing_ our Webcomic and make it, y'know, a physical thing."

"Oh! That's awesome!", I say.

"It is." Cal grins. "My idea. Thriving."

"Hey!" Bram looks at him over his slice of pizza. "Benji's whole character arc was _my_ idea."

"Okay, fine." Cal playfully rolls his eyes. "So, the Friday after that. Wait, let me do the math… The 26th it is. Alright?"

"Works for me", I say.

Bram nods. And then Cal grins up at me from the ground. And then he and Bram exchange this weird, brief look. And I keep on eating my pizza.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little disclaimer because y'all don't seem to know what to think about Cal. let me help you: like him! he's cute! i like him! a lot!  
> also, sorry, but the suspense thing is going to get so much worse...yikes

I don't get to answer Blue's email until Friday evening when I'm, once again, at the same old karaoke bar. This time around, though, neither Cal nor Bram are here, so I'm truly the fifth wheel on the wagon. I think about texting Bram, but I don't know if we're that close already, texting each other out of pure boredom without an intention behind it.

That's a thing. I do make friends quick and easy, like Abby, Garrett, and Nick, but it's different with Bram and Cal. With Cal, it's just that he isn't around all that much. I don't know what he majors in. And with Bram?

It feels like there's this thin line between us that neither of us can't ever cross. I think it's the fine line where friendship turns into romance, platonic turns into romantic, and we both know it could happen, and yet we each stand ten feet away from that line.

I have it stuck in my brain now — Bram is not straight. I don't know whether he's gay, bi, pan, it doesn't matter. It's his eyes that give it away.

But there's Blue, and I know it's him who's holding me back from crossing the line. Because I know with Bram it wouldn't be just a fling. It doesn't take a lot to see what a deep and complex person he is. But I'm not sure I want, and _can_ , invest myself in him.

And I just cannot stop thinking about Blue.

Blue, who _could_ , for all I know, _be_ Bram. Or Cal. Or none of them both. I feel it in that bar for the first time, two beers down the road, that I _want_ Blue to be someone in my life. _Anyone._  
I am so desperate to know him. To talk to him; hear his voice; take his hand; cross the line. 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 5 at 9:39 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: So
> 
> Blue,
> 
> I _really_ get no picture-proof, huh? I waited almost two days now, but I guess you meant it when you said you were just kidding.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I'm a bit disappointed.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner. College is being a real bitch these days. There's this monologue I need to prepare for one of my classes, and it's supposed to be performed wearing your deepest feelings on the tip of your tongue, but — what do I do when my deepest feeling are with you right now, Blue?
> 
> Do I need to mention my friends forced me out to a bar yet again? I think it's the Friday Tradition now. I wish you were here, Blue. Maybe you are sitting somewhere in this room. Although I doubt it. You rarely go out, you said. You know what? I think I would like to lay on the couch with you. I would show you all the things I love the most, with your head resting on my chest. Like that webcomic I love (did you check it out btw?), or my favorite music (I like more artists than just Elliott Smith), or we could watch our favorite Disney movies.
> 
> I'm not sure what this email is, Blue. My friend is bringing shots to the table. I miss you.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

***

 

I wake up on Saturday to the most pounding headache I have ever had. Including all of high school, so that's saying something. My phone still in hand, my eyes fall on a glass of water on my nightstand. I immediately know Leah placed it there and told me to drink it all before bed. Obviously, my drunk ass didn't listen.

My phone vibrates. I'm surprised it still has battery left. Barely, though, so I plug it into its charger. I got a notification from Gmail. My heart starts pounding just as hard as my head does.

Obviously, it's a new message from Blue. But before I read that I have to reread what the hell I told him last night. I remember writing it, but I don't know _what_ I wrote. I open the _Sent_ folder and then my last email. The more I read of it the worse the pounding of both, heart and head, gets.

_Love, Jacques_

I close my eyes for a second. _Oh no. I hope the word is gone when I open my eyes again._ But it's not. It's there, black on white.

"Fucking great, Simon!" I roll onto my back. "Good job. Drink every night, why don't you?"

A knock on my door. Without waiting for me to answer, Leah peeks her head inside. "Hey, peanut. You okay?"

I look away from my phone and up to her. Her hair is messy, but she's dressed. It must be a warm day outside since she's wearing the cute yellow dress she got recently. "You look beautiful."

She smiles. "Thank you. Garrett and I are going out to grab breakfast. Do you want coffee?"

I nod. "Please. A whole bucket of it. And a bagel."

"Okay, calm down", she says, laughing a little, "Do I look like Goodwill or something?"

"I mean…"

"Okay, shut up." She's about to close the door.

"Can you bring doughnuts as well?"

"Drink your water, Simon!", she yells back through the closed door.

 

***

 

I stare at the unopened email from Blue for another few hours. While I'm supposed to practice the monologue; while I'm drinking coffee and eat bagels and doughnuts; while I'm in the subway on my way to the gym.

There, I go past the other people waiting outside a course room for yoga to start. I get on the treadmill and run a mile. Two miles. Three.

I stop when I feel like throwing up not just the doughnuts but also all of last night's alcohol. But at the same time, I feel like I built up a little bit of courage now. I think I get why people workout now.

I sit down on one of the wooden benches to the side of the weights area. For a few seconds, I just sit, listen to music, and watch a few guys and girls lift weights. But I have this tingling feeling in my hands now. I can do it now. I need to know what Blue wrote back.

_It's so silly to get so worked up over one simple word, I know._

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 6 at 8:21 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: So
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I loved waking up to your email. I know what you mean by _college is a bitch these days_ ; I went to bed at half nine yesterday. On a Friday. To my defense, I had quite a busy day yesterday.
> 
> Anyway, don't miss me, Jacques. I'm right here. I'll always be. Whatever it is, you can talk to me, always. There is no need for us to stick to the questions all the time. I enjoy talking to you just like this as well.
> 
> I think everything you said from that webcomic (checked it out, I like it!) to watching Disney movies sounds amazing. I want to do that. And I want to read to you, Jacques. This time your head laying on _my_ chest. And snow outside — yes, I know it's only September, let a man be excited for winter, okay? — and we would get the biggest mugs and make hot chocolate with tiny little marshmallows.
> 
> Can you believe we will do that one day? I promise. If you want, we can call this whole experiment off and just keep on writing like this. I don't care as long as you stay with me.
> 
> One thing, though. We _will_ meet, and we _will_ do all the things we said, but I'm not ready yet. I told you, I did it, I came out to my roommate, and it was seriously great, but it wouldn't be fair to get with you right now. I want it to be perfect and special for us, Jacques, but that's only possible if I am fully ready. And I'm not. _Yet._
> 
> But I will be.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
>  
> 
> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 6 at 2:47 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: So
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> please don't think I'm pressuring you to do anything. I am so proud of you. You come out in your own pace, and I will be there all the way, waiting for you at the end.
> 
> I don't think I want to call the experiment off. If we keep on writing to each other anyway we can as well deliver a quality story to the Psych people at the end.
> 
> The idea of you reading to me sounds like my ideal day. Cuddled up under a blanket with hot chocolate. I like the sound of that.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

***

 

When I come back from the shower to leave the gym, I almost run into Cal Price. He's too busy smiling down at his phone to see me, and I'm too occupied thinking about Blue, and before we know better, our heads bump together.

"Ouch, sorry", I say immediately.

He rips out one earbud. "Oh, no, my bad. Are you okay?"

"Yeah", I say, "You?"

"I'm good. Sorry again. What are you doing here?"

"Uhm." I look around, spotting the same girl in the weights area that I'd seen half an hour ago, lifting the _same_ weights. "I work out, I guess."

Pink circles appear on Cal's cheeks. "Yeah…yeah, I see. Me too."

"No, really?" I grin up at him.

He laughs, pushing one of his hands through is sweat-damped hair. I immediately feel the need to do the same. Touch his icy blonde hair.

Instead, I lean back a little. "Hey, how was your meeting yesterday? Is the comic being printed yet?"

"Looks good", he says, "Although if we take the deal we won't have much of a say in the cover design and price et cetera."

Never have I ever heard someone say "et cetera" out loud before. It's kind of hot.

"And Bram is okay with that. He says they know what they're doing, but I'd like to have a hand in the design stuff. I mean, I do most of the drawing and coloring, so it's only fair if I get a say into the cover design as well."

"Sure", I say.

"But we have another meeting next Friday. So we'll see." His grin fades into a little smile. "You should come over again sometime."

I nod. "Yeah. I think I need Bram to read over my stuff for class once again. I don't think I would pass without him."

Now his smile is almost completely gone, just the tiniest bit is still tugging on the corners of his mouth. "Oh…yeah. Yeah, Bram is a genius."

I nod again. "Okay…I'll just text Bram when I can come over again."

"Or you could text me. Bram is home all the time anyway, but… I mean it's fun if we hang out all three, isn't it?"

"Yeah, totally. Okay…" Suddenly, Bram's voice is hallowing in my head: _"Cal asked when you'll be over the next time…"_

Cal holds out his phone to me. "Can you type in your number?"

I do as told. The image of him smiling down on his phone imprinted in my brain. Maybe he just got an email that was worth smiling at. Maybe I know Blue in real life. Maybe he is Blue.

"Cool. I'll just text you later so you have my number as well."

I can't help but nod again. My throat is a little dry now.

"Cool", he says again, "See you later then, Simon."

"See you", I crow after him, when he's already disappeared into the shower room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh woops simon slipped


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is it with this story and sushi though

I decide not to tell Blue that I might know who he is. I mean, there is no real evidence after all that he is Cal Price. But I can't help it. Whenever I think about the boy on the other end of the emails now, I see Cal.

Cal smiling down on his phone. Cal typing. Cal lying in bed with me, head on my chest, arms wrapped around me while we listen to music. I imagine his hair smells like apples. I don't know why, but I like it a lot.

> **(Unknown number):** Hey, it's Cal
> 
> **Simon:** Hey!
> 
> **Cute Cal Price:** So…come over on Tuesday?
> 
> **Cute Cal Price:** Bram says it's okay
> 
> **Cute Cal Price:** I'll let you order sushi if you must

I laugh at my phone.

> **Simon:** Deal

 

***

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 6 at 9:31 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: So
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I don't feel pressured by you at all. If anything, I feel the pressure coming from within _myself_.
> 
> Anyway. I had fondue for dinner so I'm in a good place right now — mentally. Physically, not so much. My tummy hurts from all the cheese.
> 
> I think it's my turn to ask you a question, isn't it? Yes. So, Jacques, do you believe in superstition?
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 7 at 12:07 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: So
> 
> Blue,
> 
> fondue for dinner sounds great. I fell asleep early yesterday because I, once again, ran at the gym. I mean, I don't even know what's happening; I hate running. Except apparently, I need it sometimes. Until I throw up half a dozen doughnuts in my mouth. Then it's enough.
> 
> I don't really believe in superstition. I mean, black cats? Cute! Dropping and shattering a mirror? Girl, that happens to me _all the time_. Well, it happens to me whenever I'm asked to hold on to a mirror. Which has been the case _once_ in my life, but still. I destroyed that mirror.
> 
> Hey, Blue, guess what I just realized? We only have eleven questions left! That's crazy, it feels like we started this whole thing only yesterday. But at the same time, it's so far away already. It's been what? Three weeks? It feels like anything — three seconds, three years — but three _weeks_.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques
> 
> PS: When did you last cry in front of someone?
> 
> PPS: Oof, please don't make me sad.

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 8 at 2:31 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Breaking News
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> sorry I didn't write to you yesterday. My parents came to visit for a day. And…guess what I did.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 8 at 5:17 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Breaking News
> 
> No way. NO W A Y. Blue, are you for real?! I'm so proud of you.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques
> 
>  

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 9 at 6:01 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Breaking News
> 
> Oh God, I don't even know what to say? I'm still kind of out of myself. I feel like the one time I rode the giant rollercoaster at the theme park in my hometown when I was eight. I had been scared of it for _years_ and when I finally did it I felt the ultimate jittery afterward. Like, I threw up in the nearest bin, of course, because I am me, but I was also proud of myself.
> 
> That was back in the day when rollercoasters and theme parks were my single worst nightmare. Now I'm afraid of other things too.
> 
> So, yeah, I did that. My roommate was out for dinner with another friend on Sunday, and my mom and I cooked in our kitchen while my dad read through a few of my essays. He's an English teacher, so that's his definition of a good time.
> 
> Anyway, my mom and I were making a cream-cheese sauce for the spaghetti — because, you know, there can never be enough cheese consumed in a weekend — and I just stopped in my tracks and told them.
> 
> My mom did the obligatory _"I had no idea!"_ thing, which…I'll let her get through with it. Once. (I don't know about you, but I hate the _"I had no idea!"_ thing.)  
>  But my dad… He just looked up at me from his seat and gave me a single, tiny nod before he got up and hugged me. I think he knew.
> 
> Of course, because I'm such a cool guy, I started crying on the spot when both of them hugged me. And then the cream-cheese sauce caught fire on the stove. Trust me, I didn't know sauces could catch fire either.
> 
> They left late that evening and, Jacques, all I wanted to do was tell you about it. I was so restless. I don't know, it felt like when you send a risky text to a friend, and you know you're speaking the truth but it might change everything between the two of you anyway, and you just can't take it back anymore.
> 
> My roommate came home and I told him, and then we had wine. A lot of wine. I had a headache for all of yesterday.
> 
> It was worth it, though.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: That answers the question, doesn't it? The last time I cried in front of someone? Two days ago. Hope I didn't make you sad.

 

***

 

I'm still smiling to myself when I get off the subway that evening. I follow the street to Cal's and Bram's apartment in some sort of happy daze.

He did it. Blue did it. _Cal_? Did it?

For some reason, I feel like I might burst of pride at any moment. It's something that I never got to feel — the whole readiness of telling everyone who you are and what you've been hiding. But Blue got to do it in his own pace at _his_ right time. It's a huge step in the right direction. Wherever that direction might lead him, I hope it's toward me.

Cal opens the door so fast it's almost like he's been waiting for me to knock. When I look at him, I immediately want to turn around and run all the way back to my closet in Brooklyn and change. Because he's wearing jeans. And a clean shirt. And shoes. Who wears shoes inside the house?

And I'm standing there, in a hoodie, although the weather in New York is definitely too hot for a hoodie, and basketball sweatpants, although I don't, have never, and never will play basketball.

Cal bites his lip when he sees me, and I can just tell he's holding back a laugh.

I come inside. "I didn't know this was formal, okay?" Playfully, I poke one finger against his chest, "You never said this was a date."

His grin fades for the fraction of a second, it's almost unnoticeable, but then it's back and he jokingly grabs a hold of my poking finger. "Well, I didn't know either. I normally don't do threesomes, so…"

We both laugh. And it's as if Cal and I _know_ each other. I don't know how to describe it. It's confusing, a little bit astonishing.

 

***

 

To my relief, Bram is in sweats as well. He's sitting on the kitchen table, bent over an iPad, an Apple Pencil in his hand. When he looks up, sees my outfit and then Cal's, he laughs and we start mocking Cal for so long, he at some point disappears into his room to change into more comfortable clothes.

Bram puts the pencil aside. "I swear, he's been running around like a chicken gone mad for the whole afternoon."

"He's just scared of the sushi we'll order", I say.

Bram nods. "Probably. Did you know he's never even tried sushi? He's just scared of raw fish."

"Ever heard of salmonella?" Cal leans against the fridge. And I need to collect all of my willpower not to stare at him. He's wearing sweats now, too, but they are more fitted around the legs and I swear, if he turns around I won't be able not to stare at his ass, and a blue shirt, that makes his eyes look almost electric.

"You don't get salmonella from a few sushi rolls." Bram rolls his eyes. "Plus, I told you there are vegetarian options. They are just as good. Maybe even better. The avocado rolls?"

"Oh my god, the avocado rolls", I repeat.

Cal covers his ears with his hands. "I can't hear you over the double-cheese pizza I'm ordering."

"You're too basic", I say, shaking my head in a disappointed way.

"As if you're not tempted to order pizza as well", Bram says, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Shhh."

"I swear, you two are the living definition of a straight white boy", he says.

"I'm not straight!", Cal and I say simultaneously.

Bram throws his hands up in the air. "Geez, I know, okay? Calm down."

Cal and I exchange a grin. _Not straight, huh? What a coincidence._

 

***

 

I did not know it was possible to play Wii for five hours straight. We almost forget to order dinner and call the restaurant fifteen minutes before closing time. But we manage to get our sushi. Even Cal. Bram and I convinced him to try the vegetarian option first. And to no one's surprise, he likes it. He says the cheese is missing, though.

 _Which is good to know_.

I leave my USB stick with Bram that night. We didn't do a single bit of school-related work that evening, but he promised to read over my draft and give it back to me in class tomorrow.

I'm back in the subway now, and it's almost empty. For once, instead of staring at an email from Blue, I'm staring at the picture Bram sent me of Cal asleep on the couch.

Maybe I'm staring at the same person after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, in case this needs clarification: Simon likes Bram a lot, but thinks Cal is Blue and therefore likes him "more". I think you get it, though, just wanted to make it perfectly clear.  
> And sorry but in this house we love Cal Price. :D (we love Bram more, but still)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The messiness continues

I'm starting to think Garrett might be homeless. He's _always_ around these days. I mean, I don't blame Leah for wanting to have his cute ass around all the time, but he's blocking the toilet and this is an emergency. I drank a lot of diet coke and haven't peed in hours.

"Doesn't Bram have a bathroom?", Leah chuckles.

"I don't know." I shake my head. "I mean, yes. Probably. But I didn't have to pee then. Garrett!"

"So, what did you do?" Leah leans her back against the wall next to the bathroom door.

"Nothing", I shrug.

"Cal was there, huh?"

I nod.

"Garrett told me he's come out recently ", she says and I can tell this isn't just a little piece of information she's giving me. It's also not meant to get my hopes up. It's her giving me a warning to be careful.

"We didn't do anything", I say once again.

She pushes herself away from the wall and ruffles my hair. "You know, as much as I don't want you to get hurt by some hetero ass, I really don't want you to get hurt by someone who plays in your league."

"I won't get hurt."

She kisses me on the cheek. Then she spins around and bangs her fist on the door. "Garrett, hurry the hell up in there! I'm not cleaning up the mess when Simon explodes."

 

***

 

Later, in bed, I answer Blue's email. I tell him how proud I am. But I think he already knows that. I like imagining him happy, with a big smile on his face, little wrinkles next to his bright blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

Cal Price.

I close my eyes and think of him. It's probably not the best thing to do that when I'm conveniently lying in bed just in my boxers. But I won't let my mind wander that far. Not yet. I stick to innocent thoughts. Cal writing the emails. Because he's Blue. Where does he sit when he writes them? Does he have a desk in his room? He draws a lot, so probably yes.  
Cal eating fondue. Cal coming out to Bram first, and then Garrett, and then his parents just last weekend.

 _But he's still not ready,_ he told me. _And that's okay,_ I think. There's a difference in being ready to be out to your friends and family and to be out to the whole universe.

_It's okay, I can wait for a while longer. I think I could wait for a long time for you, Cal._

 

***

 

Do you ever wake up and just have a headache even though you didn't have a single drop of alcohol the night before? Well, apparently, that's a thing, and I'm suffering from it. I skipped my first class this morning at 10 am because over all those thoughts about Cal, I forgot to set an alarm.

There was a time, it was just the first week of college to be honest when I was able to go to class every single day. Now, I don't make it three days in a row. I just physically can't.

But now I'm in a rush because Bram texted me to meet at _The Triple R_ café downtown at one to go over my draft. Just for the record, I left the house on time, but realized halfway down to the subway station I had forgotten my laptop, rushed back inside, almost fell down a flight of stairs, but finally made it to the café alive. Sweaty, but alive.

Remember how I said New York's weather was oh so summery just yesterday? Well, New York is a moody bitch and now it's perfect fall weather. At least my all hoodie wardrobe is justified now.

Bram wears a hoodie, too, but he makes it look classy. I don't know how he does it, because on me it always looks lazy. _Lazy chic_ is what Leah calls my style of clothing, which is not too bad, but I kind of wish I could be more like Bram.

He has the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. I can't tell what it is when guys do that but it makes them look eleven times hotter. And when they are already hot by, to begin with…

I tear my eyes away from Bram's forearms and sit down opposite him. "Hey. Sorry. I know I'm late."

He shakes his head, smiling. "I was here early anyway. It's fine."

"So." I place my laptop on the table between us and close my eyes. "How bad was it?"

"Your draft? Not bad at all. I mean," he chuckles, "it was written with my help."

I try to give him the side-eye with only one eye open. It doesn't have the full effect.

"I'm just kidding." He hands me the USB stick back. "It's good. I hope you don't mind, I corrected a few grammar mistakes but that's it."

"I got your love letters, corrected the grammar, and sent them back", I mutter. I wonder if he gets the Fall Out Boy reference.

A waitress comes and places glasses of iced coffee in front of us. Mine black, Bram's with milk. I smile at him

He smiles too and drums his fingers along the edge of the table to a silent beat. "What did come first, though?", he asks soon after, "The music or the misery?"

I tilt my head a little to the side. "There can be songs without a misery."

"Do you think so?"

"I wouldn't say _I'm Sexy And I Know It_ by LMFAO has a misery behind it."

There, I did it again. I lured a full-on laugh out of him. _I love that sound so much_. "Okay, that's true", he says, "You're right. Maybe there are — no wait, I can't get _I'm Sexy And I Know It_ out of my head — there _definitely_ are songs with no misery behind them. But I think the best songs arose out of misery."

"I think that sounds depressive", I say.

"Yeah. But take Elliott Smith's Waltz #2 for example. He could have never come up with those lyrics if it wasn't for his strained relationship with his stepfather." Bram's eyes seem to light up a little. And it's that moment that I realize, I should have never looked into them. They are of such a deep brown color, it's impossible not to get lost in them. "I just think it's beautiful that, although people have to live through shitty things, something this beautiful can come out in the end."

I am physically not able to look away from those eyes. They are not electric like Cal's like there are unknown storms raging inside them, with so many different shades of the same color clashing together; they are so much calmer. I feel like I'm looking into one of those spiraling optical illusion things where you, after a while, don't know whether the spiral goes in or out.

"I mean, I have no idea whoever had the idea to _sing_ first but I believe he did it out of misery. Art is the best way to cope with everything depressing. And then, after that, people like LMFAO discovered there was no real _need_ for a misery behind a song. You could just sing 'I'm sexy and I know it' over and over again and it would still turn out to be a bop."

"Ew. Don't call that song a bop."

Bram grins. "Okay, sorry, you're right."

 

***

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 10 at 5:51 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Breaking News
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I think I'm slowly getting back to feeling like myself again. I've been so out of it for the past couple of days — but in a good way. Anyway. Thank you for every single one of your words in that last email, even though it was just the word "I'm proud of you" written about a hundred times.
> 
> I appreciate it. A lot. I might have printed it out and stuck it in my diary.
> 
> Yes, I use a diary. No, you can't laugh at that.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: Oh, I just got a notification that it's my turn to ask the next question!
> 
> PPS: You have to complete the following sentence: "I wish I had someone with whom I could share…"

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 11 at 2:07 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Breaking News
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> I know it's 2 am. I know it's the middle of the week. I just can't sleep. Too much iced coffee and diet coke today. And also I have to hand in a really important assignment tomorrow which I'm a bit nervous about.
> 
> "I wish I had someone with whom I could share…"
> 
> My bed. DUH.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques
> 
> PS: Too tired to open app to look at next question. Must sleep. Hope I can now.

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 11 at 3:27 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: An email from Zombie-Jacques
> 
> Hey Blue,
> 
> oof. I am _so_ tired. I didn't sleep at all last night. I don't know. I was just lying awake, staring at the ceiling, and thinking. I just realized this sounds really depressing. I listened to music as well. It wasn't that bad.
> 
> I won't laugh at you for keeping a journal. I think if I had thought about it I would have known. You seem like a person that keeps a journal.  
>  That's a good thing to say, by the way. I wish I could keep one. It's not like I haven't tried. My parents gave me one for my thirteenth birthday. That was around the time where I first realized I wasn't into girls. I think they noticed something was up.
> 
> But whatever they wished for with that journal, it didn't happen. I felt stupid writing my thoughts down. They were in my head already, why bring them to paper?
> 
> I still have that journal. My best friend and I used it to write each other notes during class. There are entire conversations in there that go deeper than the Mariana Trench.
> 
> I think I would show it to you. Maybe. I would have to rip the cringey parts out first.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques
> 
> PS: Oh right, the question.
> 
> PPS: It's a fun one! You get to make three assumptions about me and I have to tell you whether they are true or not. Fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'm Sexy And I Know it plays faintly in the background*


	14. Chapter 14

I think I'm starting to like the karaoke bar. And I think I'm okay with fifth-wheeling. Except this time, I'm not.  
Leah spent the day over at Garrett's — for once! — and without her pushing me I'm late for everything. So I arrive at the bar at nine instead of seven. But I'm glad I did. Because Cal and Bram are there and they look like they've just arrived as well.

For some odd reason, Cal has a party hat strapped to his head. It reminds me of Leah's and my tradition in High School. Leah used to bake cakes for every one of our friend's birthday but you were only allowed to eat it if you wore a party hat.

"What's that about?" I snap my fingers against Cal's hat, grinning.

He sits at the edge of the love seat, so his head is at the height of my hip. He leans it back to look up at me. "Oh, hey! We were just talking about you!"

"More like Leah was throwing a tantrum because you're a piece of shit that's always late", Garrett laughs.

"It's my brand, I can't do anything about it."

Leah throws me a strong side-eye.

"Hey." Cal scoots more to the middle of the love seat, closer to Abby, and grabs my arms to pull me down next to him. Bram is sitting on one of the bean bags, watching us. "Guess who managed to get a publishing deal."

"Wait, really?"

Cal nods, his eyes are sparkling. _So many shades of blue. Blue._

"That's awesome!", I say, then I turn halfway around to grin at Bram as well.

He does this weird thing where he tugs the corners of his mouth upwards for a second so it looks like a weird, forced smile-grimace, then he gets up. "I'm going to… Do you want a beer?"

"Spier", Garrett echoes as if on command. _I hate him, I really do._

"Uh, sure", I say, turning back to Cal. "So you got your hand in the cover design part?"

"They'll let me do a draft of it, yeah", he says.

"Awesome."

"I'd like to show you first when it's done." He takes a sip from the beer he's already holding on to, and for a moment I think he might take my hand, or lay one of his on my thigh. I think he thinks about it, too.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, I feel like you're honest enough to give your true opinion but also too keen on the whole webcomic to bash it."

"I don't think I'd ever have a negative opinion on anything you draw."

"That, my friend," he points his index finger at my chest, "is my silver lining."

 

***

 

Bram never returns with the beers. For a moment, I think he disappeared. But then I see him leaning on his elbows over the bar, his back toward me, talking to the bartender. It's a new guy tonight. I think I've even seen him on campus before. He's talking to Bram and I don't think he breaks eye-contact once.

I don't know why, but I'm not in the mood for a long night out. Well, I know _exactly_ why. Cal is kind of shy when no one but me is paying attention to him, so he doesn't talk much, and Bram is gone for good.

I've had two beers and I'm not exactly looking for a third one. For a moment, I think it's when Cal's and my eyes meet for the fourth time and he doesn't say anything, I think about getting my phone out to write an email to Blue. Just so his phone would buzz and he would know.

 _Maybe he_ does _know. Maybe he thinks I don't know and doesn't want to say anything. Maybe that's why he's so shy all of a sudden._

But I can't write to Blue. He hasn't answered my last two emails yet. _I guess he can't do that when he's busy discussing publishing deals and then sitting next to me on a love seat for all of Friday night._

 

***

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 13 at 8:01 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: An email from Zombie-Jacques
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> if you don't bring that very journal with all its cringey parts to our first date I'm going to be really mad. There are probably hilarious conversations about girls in there. Like, your best friend pointing out that a girl is cute and you being like 'suuuuuuure'.
> 
> That's what my life was like when I was thirteen.
> 
> Okay, three assumptions. Is this meant to be like I guess who you are? Or just random things? I don't know, I'm just going to go with whatever comes first to mind when I think about you.
> 
> Assumption #1: You were Team Jacob during the Twilight phase. (Don't ask me why that came to mind but answer it!)
> 
> Assumption #2: You wear glasses.
> 
> Assumption #3: You may not have a journal but you scribble down your favorite quotes on pieces of paper and keep them to never forget about them.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: Oh, look! The next prompt is for you to make three assumptions as well. What a coincidence! :D

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 13 at 10:07 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: An email from Zombie-Jacques
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> Actually, my best friend is a girl so we were talking about boys most of the time in that journal (which, you know, didn't bother me at all). Until that one time she started talking about a girl. She came out to me as bi in that journal. We were only fourteen and I had this huge ass secret myself and she just came out with hers and I was happy but also sad. It took me three more years to be as brave as her.
> 
> About your assumptions:
> 
> #1: I actually read the books and was Team Edward. But then the movies came around and Edward was flat and stupid and Jacob was just…hot. In the end, I wanted Bella to disappear and BookEdward and MovieJacob to make out. (I'm sorry but I don't like Bella at all. Never did.)
> 
> #2: Yes, I do wear glasses. Without them, I'm pretty much legally blind.
> 
> #3: Actually, I write my favorite quotes down as notes in my phone. But I think I should opt for the paper option. That's cuter than having them in your phone, right?
> 
> So, good guesses, Blue! Now it's time for my assumptions *rubs hands together like a maniac*
> 
> Assumption #1: _You_ were Team Jacob during the Twilight phase. (I need an answer from you, too.)
> 
> Assumption #2: You share a first name with a former president.
> 
> Assumption #3: You like to draw.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 14 at 7:11 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: An email from Zombie-Jacques
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> your best friend came out as bi? Dude. Mine too. This is crazy. Jacques. Maybe we're the same person… A conspiracy theory.
> 
> And you should definitely write your favorite quotes down on paper. I'll do the same with my favorites and then we can show them to each other. Definitely cuter than staring at notes in each other's phones.
> 
> I have to say, good guesses yourself, Jacques! About the whole Twilight thing… I don't like Bella either. I have never thought about Jacob and Edward together, though, but now that you said it… I can see it.  
>  And you're right. I was definitely Team Jacob.
> 
> #2: Actually, yes.
> 
> #3: Yes.
> 
> What do you get when all of your assumptions were right?
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 14 at 7:22 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: An email from Zombie-Jacques
> 
> A kiss. I get a kiss, Blue.

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 14 at 8:02 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: An email from Zombie-Jacques
> 
> When we see each other.
> 
>  

***

 

I'm still on cloud nine when I get to class on Monday. _A kiss — When we see each other._ It's September 15th, exactly the middle of the month, and the weather decided to shift completely into fall mode this morning. Drizzly rain, leaves falling from the trees in the parks, I love it.

Bram is in his usual spot in the third row, reading a book. This is what I picture first whenever I think of Bram. Him in a cozy sweater, reading a paperback book. He's broken the spine and one half of the book completely folded back. I can see he's marked some sentences.

"Is that for a class?", I ask, sitting down next to him.

You'd think he'd be used to me appearing next to him during this class but he jumps anyway. "Oh. Hi. Uh, no, it's not."

"Because you marked something in there."

"I do that with quotes I like."

I nod slowly. _Another way of keeping them, I guess._

"We're getting the Gatsby assignments back today", he says. As if I didn't know. As if I hadn't been scared all morning.

"I know. And I know the professor will let me fail."

"No, he won't", Bram says, "I told you, what you wrote is good."

"Because it was written with your help."

"Because it was written with my help", he smiles, "For real, though. It is good."

"Yeah, the professor just hates me then."

Bram shakes his head, still grinning, "How could anyone hate you?"

 

***

 

I got a freaking A. I got an A on my alternate Gatsby universe. I can't remember the last time I actually made an effort and got an A. It's not like my grades had been bad in High School, but I never really had to put something into getting them. Leah hated me for it. She had to study her ass of to get my kind of grades whereas I just sat in class and did nothing.

All of that is not comparable to the feeling you get when you actually _did_ something to deserve that grade.

"Where are you going for lunch?", I ask Bram after class has ended.

"Uhm, I was just going to eat on campus, I—"

"Okay, no, I'm inviting you for pizza", I say, "Or pasta. Whatever you want. I'm paying."

I can see a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. Oh, how I wish I could just…act on it. Flirt with him. But there's Blue. Cal. Who is also Bram’s best friend. And we have shared so much already, I can't possibly let myself fall for someone else.

 

We end up sharing a giant pizza at an Italian restaurant off campus. I order extra cheese and a cheese crust and Bram gives me an approving look. "Cal and I raised you well."

"You two are the biggest cheese enthusiasts there are, I swear", I laugh.

He grins, but it looks kind of self-consciously as if he just suddenly realized he's alone with me.

"I got a freaking A", I say again, "On the Gatsby thing! I haven't even read Gatsby!"

"Still?" He takes a sip of his coke.

"I mean, I have read the ending and the beginning. The middle part is kind of missing but I get the general idea of the story." With a kind of mischievous grin I add, "I mean, it was enough to get an A!"

"You're unbelievable." Bram shakes his head. "You know there are movies out there?"

"Are there?"

"One of them is starring Leonardo DiCaprio", he says.

"Hm", I make, "You know, he has never been exactly my type. Except for Titanic, but we don't count that, _everyone_ thought he was hot in that one."

"You just say that so we won't watch _The Great Gatsby_ adaptations instead of Marvel movies", he laughs. _That laugh again._

"You wouldn't do that to me." I lay a hand dramatically on my chest. "Torture me with school-related things in our _free time_."

Then we both laugh and my hand lies directly opposite of his on the table, in-between just the candle-flower decoration. It's silent for a full minute.

"What did you get?", I ask finally.

"A", he replies.

"Yeah, of course, why did I bother to ask", I say, then I nudge his hand slightly, "You're smart, kid."

He shrugs. "So are you, I guess." And the blush is getting more and more obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler: the next chapter will be an all-email one and it's funny as heck


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, everyone say "thank you Marina", the best beta reader of all time, because this chapter was trash before she did her magic work and found all the typos and mistakes <3

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 15 at 10:02 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Great. Now I _really_ can't wait to finally meet you in real life. You made a promise there, Blue. If I don't get a kiss, I'll be really freaking disappointed and sad. And you don't want to see my sad. I have the puppy-look mastered.
> 
> It's my turn with the questions again, so here goes.
> 
> What's your most embarrassing moment?
> 
> Wait. You told me about _Captain Underpants_ already as your most terrible memory — and I get that — but it was also hilarious (I'm sorry but it totally was), so does this mean… there are more stories?
> 
> Blue, please tell me there are more. I want to know every single one of them.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 16 at 4:51 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> "Does this mean there are more stories?" Hm. Is there any way I can pretend like there are not?
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 16 at 5:52 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> No. Now spill.

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 16 at 7:48 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> fine. I'll tell you _one_ more story under the condition you won't ever refer to them in real life. And you have to tell me every single one of your embarrassing stories on our first date. Deal? Deal.
> 
> You told me you are a clumsy person, Jacques. If you are clumsy, then I am awkward. Like, my life is one huge parade of awkward moments. I've already shared _Captain Underpants_ with you — which is neither awkward nor embarrassing, it is hands down disturbing. Today *adjusts glasses I might or might not wear* I want to tell you another tale.
> 
> And it's _not_ the one where I eat five jars of Nutella the night before the dance in seventh grade and almost shit myself during the Cupid Shuffle. _Not that one._
> 
> The Embarrassment™️ I will talk about today has to do with Barney (the alleged "dinosaur sensation"). So I was that kid that always held onto their first ever stuffed animal. And mine just so happened to be Barney. I carried him around wherever I went and slept with him at night, and I used to chew on his hands whenever I was nervous (so, all the time basically).
> 
> So the Barney Incident happened at the end of elementary school. Just saying, Jacques, _Captain Underpants_ was not my first nickname.
> 
> For some reason I was really, _really_ nervous that day. I think I had to present a project with this one boy I had an elementary-school crush on. So I begged my mom to let me bring Barney to class.
> 
> So I did, and I felt a little more confident and I thought I would actually be able to speak in front of the whole class if Barney was just in my backpack.
> 
> Well, I wasn't.
> 
> I was so stressed, and this boy was so cute, I pretty much just started crying. But thankfully my teacher was very understanding and I was allowed to sit back down.
> 
> But as if crying in front of the whole class wasn't embarrassing enough, I sat down in my seat (second row), took Barney out of my backpack and started stress-chewing on his hands.
> 
> I was ten, Jacques.
> 
> I don't know which nickname I think is more ridiculous, _Captain Underpants_ or _Dinosucker._
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: Please don't stop talking to me, I'm so much cooler now.
> 
> PPS: I stopped sleeping with Barney immediately after that happened.
> 
> PPPS: Okay, a year after that happened.

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 17 at 0:02 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Blue,
> 
> I'm laughing so hard. I don't know about which story, though, I can only imagine how hilarious the Nutella Embarrassment was. Please tell me about that one, too. Pretty please, Blue.
> 
> Dinosucker. Captain Underpants. Wow. Honestly, just marry me now.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques
> 
> PS: I have to tell you about my embarrassing moments on our first date? No, Blue. You won't want to talk to me after the _Turd Incident_ in the public swimming pool.

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 18 at 7:08 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> the Turd Incident in the public swimming pool? Is that story similar to my Nutella Incident? I have a feeling it is.
> 
> Anyway, can we stop talking about poop? I know it's funny and all, but thinking about it makes me think of my public embarrassments and therefore I get nauseated.
> 
> Like, I oppressed a lot from the Barney moment, but I think I threw up right after I realized everyone was staring at me and Barney.
> 
> On another note, it's my turn to ask a question now: What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 20 at 9:02 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> Too serious to be joked about? Hm, honestly, we talked about my clumsiness, and what comes with said clumsiness is the ability to say exactly the things you shouldn't say in certain situations.
> 
> Like, back in Atlanta (it's still weird that you know where I'm from), we used to live next to this blind lady, Mrs Sherbert. I don't know _how_ blind she was. I think she had a little bit of light perception left. Anyway, she was always walking around with a stick (you know what I'm talking about) and she used to meet up with the other old ladies from our neighborhood once a week. Therefore, she had to pass by our house.
> 
> I think I wanted to meet up with my friend that afternoon or something, anyway, I sprinted out of the house and bumped right into her. I said sorry. And she said sorry too, even though it wasn't her fault at all. But I was fourteen back then, so kind of arrogant, so guess what I said?
> 
> "It's okay, you just didn't see me coming."
> 
> It's okay. You just. Didn't. SEE. ME. What the fuck, Jacques, what the actual fuck?
> 
> For real, though, I would never joke about serious topics like rape. I mean, I don't know if this question was meant to trigger such a dark answer, but yeah. My mom is a psychologist and sometimes she talks about her patients (obviously without saying their name) and a surprising lot of them have a trauma caused by rape.
> 
> Anyway. It's so cold outside, right? Like, fall is really kicking in. It's almost Halloween season! (Yes, Halloween is an entire _season_ and you can't change my mind)  
>  Sometimes I think it's funny. We don't know each other, or maybe we do but don't know it, and yet we both look outside our windows down on the same city. Crazy, huh? For all we know we could be next door neighbors. (Although then I would have to ask you to please shave your beard. It's not hipster anymore, Dan, please just shave it.)
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques
> 
> PS: Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a finally dash to save one item. What would it be?

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 22 at 7:00 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thank you, Blue
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I bet you Mrs Sherbert still liked you a whole lot. Tell me, how often did she invite you over for tea and cookies? — I definitely picture her as Harry Potter's Mrs Figg.
> 
> You're totally right about rape jokes. Back in high school, a lot of the dudes used to make jokes about it. Because it's just sex, right? How could anyone possibly not want the d? It pissed me off.
> 
> What would I save from my burning house? I think it would make me sound like the most basic 90s kid if I said my laptop. And I don't think I _would_ save that. I think I would save all my drawing supplies. You know I like to draw, so I have _a lot_ of them. I don't know how well educated you are on the field of drawing supplies, Jacques, but that shit is _expensive_.
> 
> Also, I'm not your next door neighbor, so don't worry. My name is not Dan and I don't have a beard.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: Tell your partner something you love about them already.
> 
> PPS: I should probably be excited about that one. But I'm hella nervous. Maybe we should take a little bit of pressure off and change _love_ to _like_.
> 
> PPPS: I'm nauseated.

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 23 at 11:02 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: What I love (most) about you
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> you know, there are a lot of things I _like_ about you. But there are also quite a number of things I _love._ For example that you make me smile with absolutely _every_ email, no matter what you wrote about. Or that you once ate five jars of Nutella. I love that. What a legend. Or that you love Harry Potter and nerdy stuff just as much as I do. Or that you're by far the most caring person I have ever met.
> 
> But I'm only asked to tell you _one_ thing I love about you, right? So I'm going to tell you what I love most. About you, about our email relationship thing, about everything.
> 
> That you keep surprising me, Blue. You're not just what meets the eye, even though what _does_ meet the eye is pretty damn great too. I love that, from just looking at you, or just reading your emails, I would never think of you coming to school half naked and still nailing a presentation. I wouldn't think you were someone that saved all their favorite quotes. That kept a journal.
> 
> Blue, I have to tell you something. I think I know who you are. And I think I have known for quite a while. Maybe you know who I am, too. I'm not the most careful person.
> 
> I know it's you Cal. And I'm pretty freaking happy about it.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques/Simon

 

_This email has been saved as a draft!_

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 23 at 11:32 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: That's What I Like About You
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> I have that song stuck in my head now. I don't know if I like the original better or 5SOS's cover version. That's my current dilemma.
> 
> Anyway. I like a lot of things about you, Blue. I think it's pretty easy to like you. But there's also one thing I love already. (Pshh, there's more than that but I'm only asked to share one!)
> 
> That one thing is that you make me happy.
> 
> Sounds cliché, I know, but I think we've already established that I'm a hopeless romantic. I mean, it's not like I'm sad in particular. It feels more like I'm laying on my back in the middle of the ocean, and I'm just floating, and nothing ever happens. Sure, there have been quite a few shark attacks (my Coming Out, me getting attached to straight guys over and over again, blah blah blah), but that was all before you.  
>  You make me happy in the sense that I feel like there is a big wave coming. A wave that could bring me to a safe shore.
> 
> You probably think this is really sappy — and guess what, it is! — but I just… I wanted you to know.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thing: I hope you're okay with me using canon things from the book (like, the Barney thing, or the Nutella thing, etc). I like these stories so much and I wanted to give them a place in this au.


	16. Chapter 16

I want to die. Very lowkey and I haven't thought about actively doing something about it yet, but I'm considering it. Like, I really am. Currently, I'm banging my head against my palms. Class just ended and Bram is laughing at me. Which I consider straight up rude. I'm having a crisis.

"What did you think?", he asks, still shaking with laughter, "That it'd be one creative writing assignment and then it's done?"

I stop my self-destructive movements for a second to glance at him. "Honestly? Yes."

"Simon." He shakes his head.

"I was so stressed about this Gatsby thing and now I'm supposed to do it all over again?", I cry out.

"Well, it's different this time", Bram says.

"Yeah, whatever." I'm generally pissed right now. At the professor. At this course. At me for being so dumb.

"I can help you again."

"No, I'll just feel bad for wasting your time on my shitty writing."

His laughter slowly fades into a smile. But it's such a warm and genuine one, I feel myself almost melting from it. "Are you kidding? You're not wasting my time. I like spending it with you. I like it a lot."

_Could it be? Is Bram Greenfeld flirting with me? On a very lowkey level?_

"I like it a lot, too", I say, "But I'd like to spend time with you without homework on hand."

"Simon, we're in college, what do you expect?"

"You know." Everyone is getting up and leaving the room, but I'm just leaning back in my chair. "I expected college to be really chill. Sure, a few assignments here and there but hey, being able to skip lessons and not get in trouble for it! But suddenly here I am, failing eleven classes even though I'm only taking, like, five."

"I'm sure you're not _failing_ ", Bram says.

"Fine, _I'm not doing well in them_ then."

"Simon, just… stop." He nudges my forearm with his. "It's okay. I'm sure you're doing just alright. It can all feel pretty overwhelming at times."

"How do _you_ do it?", I ask, "You're doing incredibly well in college, you draw a popular webcomic and you have free time."

"I just don't sleep", he grins.

"Yeah, no", I say, pointing my index finger at him, "I don't believe you. It's impossible to look that cute with no sleep."

 

***

 

 _Why did I say that?_ _Why why why why._ I'm lying face-down on my mattress, reliving that moment. I mean, Bram's reaction hasn't been bad. Not at all. He had a very sweet blush going on. The thing is, I completely chickened out. I got up abruptly before he could say anything back to me and left. This never happens. I wouldn't say I'm the biggest flirt out there, or maybe I am, but I'm sure as hell not very skilled at it. But I _never_ ran away from it.

My laptop keeps staring at me from my nightstand. I know I have homework to do. And I also have a new email from Blue. But I'm too humiliated to do anything. For a second, I play with the thought of texting Bram, taking back what I said. But I don't think that's how it works.

I _know_ this is not how it works.

What would I say anyway? _Hey, B, sorry about what I said. I take it back. I mean, I do think you're cute. Really_ freaking _cute. But I kind of like someone else. Someone who might be unreachable, yet so close to me. Someone who probably is your best friend._

That's not going to happen.

But before I can think into it any further, my phone buzzes. I fish it out of the pocket of my jeans. It's a text from Blue — I mean _Cal_.

 **Cute Cal Price** : you're still down for the cinema tomorrow?

 **Simon:** As long as Bram doesn't make us watch Gatsby adaptations

 **Cute Cal Price:** hahaha

 **Cute Cal Price:** I'll make sure he won't

He sends a smiley face after that and I find myself staring at it for two minutes straight. _I'm sure I wouldn't have run away if the flirty situation happened with you, Cal._

 

***

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 25 at 3:40 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: That's What I Like About You
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> _I_ make _you_ happy? It's the other way around. Or maybe we just make each other happy. Wow. What do the kids say these days? Relationship goals. Am I right?
> 
> I'm not saying we're in a relationship, though. Not yet.
> 
> Oh my God, I can't believe I just typed that. And I'm not going to delete it. I'm a mess, Jacques. Ever since coming out to my parents, my life is such a mess. But in a good way. It's very confusing.
> 
> I know I wasn't asked to do that but I want to tell you the thing I like most about you, too. There are a lot of things, but you know… with time come opportunities to tell you every single one of them. Until then: My Most Favorite Thing.
> 
> The way you see the world.
> 
> Okay, let me explain this one. I sometimes have a hard time to find my place in the world. Changes are hard, no matter whether they are big or small. And I do think changes are hard for you, too; they are hard for everyone — but you are just so… positive. Jacques. Even when you complain about things. I just know that you know that you will kick ass in whatever situation you're worried about.
> 
> I like that you still believe in romance. And not even in a cheesy, sappy way. In a real way.
> 
> I hope you get what I'm trying to say. I told you, I'm a little messy at the moment.
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 25 at 8:32 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: That's What I Like About You
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> stop it. My chest actually aches. When can we meet?
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 26 at 2:50 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: Thats's What I Like About You
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> There are a couple more questions to go! ;-)
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: I'm eating a baguette for lunch. It makes me think of you.
> 
> PPS: Because of your name.
> 
> PPS: Mind out of the gutter! I know what you're thinking. Your NAME, Jacques. I swear.

 

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 26 at 5:02 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: I refuse to take my mind out of the gutter
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> right. How many more questions are there even? Let me check.
> 
> Four. F O U R.
> 
> Okay, this is exciting. Do you think the Psychs will freak out when we invite them to our wedding, Blue? Those nerds will probably be out of their minds.  
>  Are you more of a tie or bow person, Blue? I need this information for daydreams, don't ask any further. I always imagined you in a tie but now that I think about it, maybe you're one of the few people who can pull off a bow? That would be so hot.
> 
> Do you still like me being romantic?
> 
> Anyway. Four questions. And it's my turn. So here goes.
> 
> What is your favorite TV show of all time?
> 
> Wow. A random one. Mine is the The Bachelor/The Bachelorette. Mostly because a lot of family memories are attached to that.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 26 at 8:48 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: I refuse to take my mind out of the gutter
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I wear ties a lot of the time. Well, not _a lot_ of the time because I don't have to dress up every day, but when I have to, I usually settle on a tie. But I wore a bow to my prom. And then I had to flee from the girl I went with, Lucy, because she tried to kiss me.
> 
> So maybe I am a bow person. I would send you a picture of me at prom but I can't because a) … obvious reasons and b) my dad took the pictures and they look awful.
> 
> And yeah, I still like the romantic you. I would go as far as to say I love that you imagine our wedding. That's cute. And maybe a little creepy, but I'm doing the same thing so we're even.
> 
> My favorite TV show _of all time_. Hm. Honestly, I'm a little hard on those questions. The easy ones. They are _too_ easy. I could just say that I love _The Flash_ and I do and it's definitely one of my favorites but is it My Favorite TV Show Of All Time?
> 
> I think it's Brooklyn99. Now _that_ is random and it definitely took me almost an hour to settle on it. Why is it my all time favorite you might ask? (You probably don't care.) Because I can rewatch it. Even though I know every episode that is out there, I rewatch it all the time and it's still funny. And it tackles social issues in such a good way!
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue
> 
> PS: THE BACHELOR/ETTE?! What did your parents do to you?!
> 
> PPS: Next prompt: Tell a secret!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to spoil anything but I'm actaully a little nauseated when I think about the next few chapters. Sorry in advance.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry in advance, simon is a dumb gay

„I hope we get to the new Spider-Man tonight“, Cal says, spinning around his own axis once in the lobby. „It has Tom Holland _and_ Zendaya in it. I'm living."

„He has seen nothing of the MCU except the three Iron Man movies“, Bram intervenes, „I doubt we’ll make it to _Spider-Man: Homecoming_ tonight.“

Cal’s eyes become big and accusing. It’s probably not the best moment to notice how blue they are. Like the ocean on a bright day with the sun shining on it from right above.

„Wait, there are _three_ Iron Man movies?“, I ask, a little — or a lot — dumbfounded.

Both of them groan.

 

Ten minutes later I’m wedged in a plush chair between Cal and Bram. Everyone has their own _bucket_ of popcorn. It’s caramelized and tooth-rottenly sweet and perfect.

Cal insisted on watching the films in chronological order, which is apparently the best way to watch them. I didn’t even know you had to watch them in _any_ particular order. But here I am now, completely emerged into Captain America: The First Avenger.

It’s good, although I don’t quite get what all the hype is about just yet. Chris Evans is hot, though. And his eyes remind me a little bit of the ones of the boy to my right. Which doesn’t exactly help.

Halfway through the movie, Cal nudes his shoulder against mine. „Hey, Si?“

I feel a little taken aback from the sound of my nickname coming from his mouth.

„I finished my popcorn“, he whispers, then his eyes wander to my bucket that’s still half full. I tilt it a little to his side and he gladly takes the offer.

Suddenly, with Cal constantly reaching for the popcorn in my lap, I’m very aware of Bram on my left. I hate myself a little for thinking my next thought, but I kind of wish he wasn’t there. I’d probably hook up with Cal right here and now. And maybe this time it would result in more than just sex. Because Cal wouldn’t be ashamed. He wouldn’t tell me he was straight after he shoved his dick up my ass.

Because he is Blue.

Probably.

But there's still this very small but very present little piece of doubt that it's not him after all. And I'm not sure how I would feel about him then.

And that is when it slowly, slowly but surely, with Chris Evans crashing his plane right into an iceberg, comes to me that it is Blue who I want. Who I long for. It doesn’t really matter if he is Cal or someone I have never met before. I need _him_.

Before we start with the next movie, a rewatch of the first Iron Man, I excuse myself to the toilet for a minute. I need to get something off my chest. Immediately.

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 26 at 11:32 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: You
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> a secret. Well. How do I put this? I mean, it's probably not that big of a secret. I told you I was imagining our wedding! But still. I'm sitting on the toilet (that's not the secret and don't worry, the lid is closed and I'm fully dressed) and my hands are sweaty.
> 
> Okay, here goes.
> 
> I think I am in love with you. And I'm pretty sure I also know who you are.
> 
> Love,  
>  Jacques

 

***

 

Right. I get it. I’m four movies into the MCU, it’s the middle of the night, and I get it. That universe is freaking amazing!

Bram volunteers to clean the popcorn machine since he’s the one who ate most of the popcorn (Cal gave up after he ate most of my first bucket). I text Leah to stop fucking in the living room as I’m about to head home.Although there sure are things I would rather do than take the subway at four in the morning.

„Hey, uhm…“

I lock my phone and look up at Cal. He’s kind of tall and lanky. Different than Bram, though, who is tall and slim but balances that out with a pair of broad shoulders. — Keep in mind every boy seems tall to me. I’m 5’7. — Cal, however, looks like a teenager that’s been pulled into length from both ends. It’s kind of adorable actually. 

„We… You and me…“ He scratches his neck. „We should go out sometime.“

 _Oh_.

„To the movies?“, I grin, but it’s more of a mask. I can’t stop thinking about the email I wrote Blue. _He read it. It's him!_

Cal looks around the lobby and releases a shaky laugh from his lungs. „I was thinking more like… dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast. Whatever works for you.“

 _Oh_ _boy_.

„Sure“, I say. Because the truth is, I have never turned anyone down in my life. Which is probably why I have such a disastrous history with apparent straight guys. But the truth is: I am confused. _Why doesn't he just say he's Blue? Up until now, I was 98% sure he knew who Jacques was as well._ „But I don’t do breakfast. Because breakfast requires getting up early.“

Another shaky laugh. _God, he’s actually nervous!_ As if we didn’t just sit next to each other in plush chairs for seven hours. As if I didn't just write an email to him telling him I was in love.

„There is a place down the street we live on. They serve breakfast foods at any time of day. We could go there…at like seven?“

„Sounds good“, I say.

„Next Friday?“, he asks, hand still insecurely laying on the nape of his neck.

„Works for me.“

Cal looks down at me with such a piercing look in his eyes, I can’t help but bite down on my bottom lip. _This is a happy night._

 

***

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 27 at 7:08 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Oh.

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 27 at 3:18 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Dear Jacques,
> 
> I'm sorry, this was not meant to sound discouraging or anything. Actually, I'm about to burst of happiness. At least I think so. Butterflies? There's a whole tornado in my stomach right now.
> 
> Do I have to say it? I don't think I do but still. I think the experiment worked on us, Jacques. I feel the same way.
> 
> And I also think I know who you are, too. _Jacques a dit_ , right?
> 
> Love,  
>  Blue

 

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: September 27 at 6:32 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> wow. I mean, yeah. You're right. I came up with the name Jacques because of _Simon Says_. I used to play that with my family on my birthday. And _Jacques a dit_ is French for that. But you know that, of course.
> 
> Sorry, I'm awkward. I don't know what I expected to feel. What I do feel is naked. Which is weird. Because I'm pretty certain I know who you are, too.
> 
> I can't have a cool " _Jacques a dit_ , right?" moment, so I'm just going to ask right away. Is it you, Cal?
> 
> Love,  
>  Simon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it you, Cal? Is it? IS IT??!?!?!?!
> 
> It's all downhill from here :')


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so nervous especially about this chapter but my dear beta-reader Marina found and fixed all the mistakes <3 Honestly, she's writing this story by now! xD
> 
> SO
> 
> Let. The. Drama. Begin!

Weird. That's how things are the following week. I plan to jump over my shadow and ask Bram to help me with the new Creative Writing assignment on Monday, but he isn't in class. I text him to ask what's up and he tells me about some kind of family emergency back at home. _I hope his little brother is okay_ , I think, remembering the cute picture he has saved as his phone's lockscreen.

By Wednesday, Bram is still in Savannah, and I'm madly excited about my date with Cal.

By Friday, I skip class — _what's new?_ — to think about what to wear that evening. For a moment, I even consider exchanging the usual hoodie for something fancier. But then I remember that Cal has literally seen me in sweatpants around his apartment before, so why stress out?

_I hope him and I work out._

But I know we will. Because he's Blue. He's talented, cute, and so grammatical. A nerd. A nerd who probably looks pretty damn hot in a bow.  
I try to imagine Cal in a suit and a bowtie. Suit? Yeah, hot. Bowtie? Can't really picture it on him. I feel like he's more of a tie guy. But maybe I just have to _see_ it.

 

***

 

We meet at the breakfast place Cal told me about — it is actually called The Breakfast Place. I'm late, as usual, but I have a good excuse for that this time.

So I was in the subway. On my way to The Breakfast Place. When I got an email. From Blue. Almost a week after I wrote him last.

And it messed with my head. Pretty badly.

 

 

 

 

> FROM: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> TO: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: October 3 at 6:28 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Simon,
> 
> I'm sorry. I'm not who you think I am. I think we should stop this.
> 
> Blue

 

It feels like my stomach is being left behind somewhere in the subway tunnel while my body is still speeding along. So I have been wrong all along. Blue is not Cal. _Then what am I doing right now?_ I'm on my way to him. The wrong guy! And I feel like I'm about to cry.

The internet connection has been pretty bad for the last two stations, but once I get up to street level again, I get a new notification. From the 36 app.

_Your partner has quit the experiment early! Would you like us to look for a new one?_

I'm staring at it. While I'm walking up to Cal. He's wearing his leather jacket and black skinny jeans and I just… I wish I could run away.

"Hey!", he says, smiling.

"Hi." My voice is flat as a piece of paper.

_Blue quit._

_Blue is someone else._

_I need to find him!_

"I thought we could sit outside", Cal says, "I know, it's pretty cold but they have these heaters out here, look."

I don't look, but I nod. Whatever, honestly. I won't be able to squeeze one bite down my throat. Not without breaking the dam and starting to cry. _I ruined it! Why did I speak up? I wasn't a hundred percent sure. I shouldn't have said a word._

_He's gone._

"Hey, Si…"

It feels worse than any morning after a hook up with a straight guy. Worse than this one dude, Tom, who had the audacity to kiss me good morning before he said he had to leave and see his wife. His _wife._ Even worse than that.

"Are you okay?" Cal reaches over the table — _when did we sit down? —_ and brushes his fingers over my hand.

And then I do what I always do when I feel like this. I put on a mask. Usually, only Leah is able to tear it down, but I have a feeling I have to sit through this alone this time. _Because_ I _ruined it._ I _did that._ I _fucked up. And_ I'm _having a date with the wrong guy when I_ should _be looking for Blue._

The worst part about this is that Cal has no idea. He doesn't know I have absolutely zero feelings for him. He's not Blue; he's not who I want. But who am I to lead him on and then let him down? I can't do that.

"I'm totally fine", I say, "Just a little nervous."

He takes my hand fully in his. And I think it feels good. I like it, but I would like it more if he was Blue. _God, I miss Blue. He hasn't been gone for ten minutes but I'm already a wrack._

"So", Cal smiles, "Pancakes or waffles?"

"That, my friend" And I do the thing he did in the bar what feels like ages ago and point my index finger at him, "is a good question. What makes you think I'm not going for oatmeal?"

"Because I think you're the last person to order anything healthy." He has this mischievous grin. And I am tempted. _Why am I tempted?_ I grin back, and I can't help it. I can't help but be in the moment.Worry later. And I know I will do that. Worry. A lot.

 

***

 

Cal was right. I _am_ the last person to order anything remotely healthy. But honestly, so is he. He went for chocolate chip pancakes with chocolate-covered fruits. With granola sprinkled all over it and two scoops of ice cream on the side. I had waffles drowned in maple syrups and white chocolate chips, and also ice cream.

And I have a new thesis now: Ice cream makes everything seem only half as bad.

Cal brought his iPad, which might seem weird on a first date, but he shows me the cover designs for _Blue Lightning_ he came up with. He shows me the one Bram likes the most first. And I love it. I think I want it printed and hung up over my bed.

"And imagine the title and the bolts of lightning in this gold foil they sometimes do on book covers. You know?" His eyes are sparkling.

I know I shouldn't do this. But I'm high on true Canadian maple syrup and ice cream. So I lean over to him and press my lips on his. Just like that. Even though he isn't Blue. But maybe he is what I need _right now_.

 

***

 

We go back to Cal's place soon after that. Bram isn't home. "Left for Savannah. Such a mama's boy", Cal grins as he closes the door of the loft behind us, "But you know… that means we have all of this to ourselves."

"Sounds promising", I say, looking around the flat as if I haven't been here lots of times already.

This time he kisses me. And it doesn't stop there. We make it to his room, but barely. I feel him everywhere — and it's half blessing, half curse, knowing he isn't Blue but something _like_ Blue is all I need.

 

***

 

So, here’s a sad thing: I have never cuddled with someone. Okay, except my dog back in Georgia and Leah. But I mean in an _after sex_ kind of way.

So this is my first time lying half-naked and sweaty next to someone with their arms wrapped around me.

And I feel nothing.

Basically, I feel like after every other hook up. Except this one definitely was slower and more passionate, and it wasn't just _one_ if you know what I mean, but still. The air is sticky, and Cal’s skin is too hot against mine, and he’s breathing right into my ear.

"Cal?“ It’s barely a whisper. It's very early but I know he is awake, and I kind of hope he doesn’t hear me.

His finger stops drawing random patterns on my chest. „Yeah?“

_Dammit._

"Can we be friends?“, I ask. My voice is toneless.

I can feel him smiling against my shoulder. He has a slight stubble going on that tickles a little against bare skin. "I thought we _were_ friends.“

"Sure…“ I stare at a framed sketch on his wall. "I meant…can we be _just_ friends?“

"Oh.“ He holds his breath for a second. "Si, I’m sorry if this…if this happened too fast for you, I swear, we can—“

"No. No no, it didn’t.“ I turn around in his arms. "It was okay. Well, much better than okay. Amazing. Awesome. And I would do it again. What I mean, though, is that … I can’t fall for you, Cal. Even if I wanted to.“

He narrows his beautiful eyes as if to ask _What the fuck are you talking about?_

"I think I am falling for someone else. And I can’t, and I don’t want to lie to you.“ I pause for a moment to allow him to process things before I add, „So we can be friends. We can do _this_ again, too. But… just so you know. I can’t give you more.“

It takes a moment, but then he says, „Okay.“ His voice is a little raspy. "I think I get it. Thank you for telling me. Although you could have done that right when I asked you out. Anyway. Thank you for saying this before I catch any stronger feelings for you.“ We exchange a tiny smile.

"But“ His hands let go of me and he falls onto his back. "if you feel yourself falling for someone that isn’t me — first of all: rude! — but… why didn't you hook up with them then?“

"Because“, I say, "I have no idea who he is.“ _The only thing I am sure of right now is that Blue is not you, Cal._

And then I tell him about Blue. And I tell him I’d thought it might be him for a moment. And he laughs awkwardly at that. It’s almost like something dawns on him. I can clearly see it in the features of his face. And then, suddenly, he’s off the bed and on his feet.

"I, uh, Si…“, he stutters, "I’m sorry, hold that thought, or whatever, I’m sorry. I kind of have to…to go. I forgot I had a class this morning.“ He puts on a shirt. Backward. "Make yourself some cereal. I’m sorry. See you. Sorry. Bye!“

"But it's Saturday!", I yell after him but he is long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhh oh nooo why is cal in such a rush hmm mysteries! tension! drama! tragedy!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, marina, i know you're reading this: you're the best thank you <3

When I come home later that day, Leah is already awaiting me with the same judging look she always puts on when I come home after I spent the night with a guy. It’s not because I, God forbid, had sex. It’s because she knows I’m the kind of person that gets attached a little too fast.  
And with all the _straights_ that have turned me down after a night of, you know, _not so straight_ behavior, she has sat through a lot of heartbreaks with me.

And all that although I have never had a boyfriend.

Except it could have ended like that for me this time. If it wasn’t for Blue I’m certain Cal would be my boyfriend now. But he, Blue, has taken my heart, even know I am totally clueless about who he is.

„Stop looking at me like that.“ I drop my coat to the floor.

„Did y’all have sex?“, she asks in a very dry, objective way.

„Yes…“, I say.

„Are you going to cry?“ The tone in her voice doesn’t change one bit but I know for a fact that, if I would _actually_ start crying, she’d comfort me immediately.

„No…“

She looks like I just spoiled her the biggest plot-twist in cinematic history. „You’re not…?“ She stands up from the couch. „Wait. Oh…Oh my god. Is he your boyfriend? Are you dating Cal?“

„No“, I say immediately, lay my hands on her shoulders and push her back down to sit. It’s about time I talk to her about everything.

 

***

 

„That’s such a stupid idea“, Leah says, „Asking each other thirty-six questions to fall in love? I call bullshit.“

„But it worked“, I tell her, „There are two questions left. And it worked, it bloody did, Leah.“

„You have no idea _who_ he is!“, she cries out, „What if your _dreamy Blue_ is a jerk like Martin Addison? You do remember Martin Addison, right?“

I nod. I mean how could I forget Martin Addison? The guy who found out I was gay and set me up for my first kiss with a boy only to snap a picture of it and post it on Facebook. The guy who forced me to come out.

„But he’s not. I know it’s hard to understand, but I really do know him. Not just what his answers to the questions tell me about him. I may not know what he looks like, but that’s really just the last missing piece, and it doesn’t even matter anymore. I got to know and fall for him from the inside out.“

Leah looks at me and _I swear_ , she’s a little teary eyed. Which doesn’t happen very often. She wraps an arm around my shoulders. „But…Simon…What if he smells bad?“

I bury my face in the crook of her neck and laugh. „Then I’ll tell him to shower.“

 

***

 

From there onwards, everything goes off the rails in the worst way possible.

I cannot make it to my Creative Writing classes – they are too early for my broken heart, and also I don't feel like writing. And Bram hasn't texted and I'm afraid something is wrong with his family and I don't want to intrude, besides it seems like there might be a problem with Cal, from what I gather from his few texts: he's been quite cold since our date and everything that happened afterward and his sudden departure... Maybe he is not as cool with me being into somebody else as he said?

 

***

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: October 4 at 3:30 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed something I wasn't one hundred percent sure of. Especially since you knew it was me and were right. But I don't think you really had a reason to blow the whole thing off.
> 
> Please, Blue. Just because I was wrong doesn't mean it was all for nothing. I miss you. Please write back.
> 
> Love,  
>  Simon

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: October 10 at 2:02 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> you still haven't written back. I don't know why I'm telling you this but I miss you. I think I'll fail one of my classes. _At least_ one of them.
> 
> I kind of shut everyone out. My friends are having a night out at the karaoke bar we always go to. I think you get free drinks all night if you dress up in a Halloween costume and you're the only one with that costume. I planned to go as a dementor. But I couldn't get myself out of bed.
> 
> I wish you would just write to me. I'm really sorry I hurt you, I wish I could fix this.
> 
> Love,  
>  Simon

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: October 16 at 4:02 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Blue,
> 
> I feel like my life is falling apart without you. Suddenly everything breaks. I think two of my friends are fighting. And I kind of feel like _I_ have to fix things between them?! Even though I don't have a fucking clue what's going on at all.
> 
> No one talks to me these days. Sometimes, I'm grateful, and sometimes, I feel like venting on my best friend's podcast about everything that is currently wrong in my life. (I don't know, we're probably not doing recommendations anymore but still. Maybe you know Leah's podcast but if, by any chance, you don't — Listen to it. It's called _On The Offbeat_.)
> 
> I miss you so much, Blue.
> 
> Love,  
>  Simon

 

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: October 24 at 1:00 AM
> 
> SUBJECT: Re: You
> 
> Blue,
> 
> honestly? I'm about to fucking explode. I'm mad and angry and sad that you don't write back. I mean, I get that it's awkward that I thought you were someone else but… don't you get it? I don't even care about that anymore. How could that not be clear to you?
> 
> The only other excuse I can think of for you not replying anymore is that you moved on. Met someone else — in real life. Which is okay. If you don't like me like that anymore because I did what I did that's fine. I mean, it hurts, but I'll get over it. I can't force you to be attracted to me.
> 
> See, you don't even have to explain yourself now. I won't mention anything as long as we can go back to… Can we just be _friends_ again? Please?
> 
> Fuck, Blue, you know about the Turd In The Public Pool! And not only that. You know so much about me. I lay my heart on the line for you. It's not fair that you disappear like that.
> 
> Please.  
>  Simon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sigh... sad simon is sad


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm just not in the mood", I say for probably the twentieth time this evening. And, also for the twentieth time, all Leah and Garrett do is roll there eyes at me. "I didn't even agree to this!"

"Simon, I don't care", Leah says, draping a garland of smiling pumpkins over the curtain rod in the living room, "You've been hiding in your room for all of this month. Now it's Halloween and it's enough."

Garrett does this over-exaggerated nod as if not leaving your bed for four weeks is in any way concerning. "Whoever Blue is, you need to get over him."

I pretzel my arms in front of my chest. "Leah, I still hate you for telling him about it."

"Shhh", she makes, looking at all the decorations that are scattered on the floor. I still can't believe she wants to throw a Halloween party in _here_. Our apartment is approximately the size of a shoe box.

"Right", Garrett says, imitating Leah's voice when he adds, " _Shhh_. Leah and I are a team. And you're pretty much our son."

Leah and I both cringe at him.

I open my mouth right as our doorbell rings. It must have looked funny as if _I_ made the _ding dong_ sound. For the fraction of a second, I debate not opening the door. But Leah is busy placing spooky candles in every corner of the room and I won't give Garrett the pleasure to open _our_ apartment door. Don't get me wrong, I really like him, but I don't want him to think he can move in, like, ever. The size of a shoe box, remember?

So I open the door. And no one is there. Except for Dan, with his beard, but he's just rushing by, giving me a quick nod. I look left and right, up and down the staircase in front of our door, but no one is there. I furrow my brows. Why would anyone play Ding Dong Ditch on the third floor of a building?

But then my eyes drop to the mat that's lying in front of our entrance. There's a box. It's about the size of a book and it's wrapped in blue-green construction paper.

My heart drops but shoots up for the stars right after. _Blue._

I crouch down to examine the gift. But then, all of a sudden, I feel as if someone's watching me. So I get up, press the carton to my chest, and hurry back inside. Leah and Garrett moved on to decorating the kitchen now. I head straight for my bedroom and lock the door behind me.

 

***

 

It's been ten minutes and I'm still staring at the blue-green wrapping paper. I've checked my email account twice. No new email. And yet this box is here. _Why would Blue do that?_

Next thing, I'm assuming it's a prank Leah and Garrett thought of to make me feel better. _But that doesn't make sense,_ I tell myself, _And it would be kinda cruel._

I begin nodding as if to encourage me to do it; to open the damn thing. I take a few breaths and finally reach for it. The wrapping paper is easy to peel off, but I take my sweet time with it. Whatever is inside, this _whole_ thing feels like Blue — and I missed that. I missed that _so_ much.

Inside is a carton like I assumed, and I open that as well. Inside, there are notes. Little pieces of paper, neatly folded once. I can see the blue ink ghosting through. I reach in and pull one out, unfolding it quickly.

It's a quote. From an Elliott Smith song. _"I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow."_

I open another one. Another quote. This time it's from The Great Gatsby. I wouldn't recognize it if it wasn't written beneath it. _"Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away."_

 _You should definitely write your favorite quotes down on paper. I'll do the same with my favorites and then we can show them to each other,_ I remember the words Blue wrote to me.

I stare at the words. And then there is a sudden jolt going through my body and I toss the pieces of paper back in the box and close it. This is silly, I know, but I won't read every single quote now. There's a slight tugging at my heartstrings, a kind of dark suspicion, that this might be his goodbye.

We talked about quotes. And I wanted to see the ones he liked. So maybe this is his goodbye gift. He has read my emails and this is how he wants to end things.

I can feel the tears bubbling up.

 _Well, if this is it, Blue,_ I think _, I'm making it last for as long as possible. I'll read one quote a day. And by the end of it all, I'll be ready to let go just like you did._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, you only have to watch Simon being dumb for one more chapter.

The Halloween party goes great. Everyone loves the decorations and the food. I am the one who's miserable. I kind of looked forward to seeing Cal. Since he and Bram started fighting for whatever reason, I haven't talked to him much. But he isn't here. Instead, Bram shows up — in a dementor's robe! I think I'm the only one who guesses his costume right.

He smiles at me kind of shyly but his eyes seem to say more.

I didn't even have the energy to dress up properly. I just drew a lightning-shaped scar on my forehead and called it a day. And I also don't have the energy to flirt with Bram. _It's crazy,_ I think, _how much I still miss Blue_. It overshadows every single emotion I had been harboring for Bram.

 

***

 

I live by my promise and pull one quote out of the box every single day. Some of them, I collect in an envelope I — in a sad moment — colored in blue. Others, my favorites, I keep on my nightstand.

The favorites include:

Day Four: "baby, look at the stars, I'll kiss you again, between the bars" — Between The Bars, Elliott Smith

Day Eleven: "Of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" — Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling

Day Twelve: "You're the kind of person I wanna be with when I want to be alone." — Eleanor & Park, Rainbow Rowell

Day Eighteen: "Just don't tell the world — even if you're the world to me now" — Call Me By Your Name, André Aciman

Day Twenty-Eight: "Maybe it's better to have gotten it right and been happy for one day instead of living a lifetime of wrongs." — They Both Die At The End, Adam Silvera

 

***

 

It's December now and I have about two quotes left. Am I feeling better? Not at all, to be honest. I thought I would. I really did. But here I am, still checking my emails four times a day.

Right now, I'm sitting outside on my favorite bench in Morningside Park. A few men are building an ice-ring and pop-up sheds for the Christmas market that is about to start tomorrow. If Halloween is a season, then Christmas sure is as well. And it's right about to start.

August, back when Blue and I started, feels lightyears away.

I think about the two quotes I have left. Every single one of them neatly written in royal blue fountain pen ink and neatly folded.

Before I know better, my phone is in my hands. It's been a rough day today, I've checked my emails more than usual. This is the eighth time, I believe. But this time, I'm not just going to _check_. I need to get something off my chest — again. But this time, at least I hope, I won't ruin everything.

 

> FROM: hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com
> 
> TO: bluegreen118@gmail.com
> 
> DATE: December 2 at 4:42 PM
> 
> SUBJECT: Us
> 
> Dear Blue,
> 
> there are a couple of things I want to say. And I'm trying to be as grammatically correct as possible, but I'm outside, and it's freaking cold.
> 
> First of all, I know I haven't written in a while. But that doesn't mean I have forgotten about you. I got your present. It's wonderful. But it also hurt.
> 
> I know you didn't mean for it to hurt, Blue. It's just that I thought I would get over you if I stretched it out for as long as I could. So I've been pulling one note a day for the past thirty-two days. I thought at the end — _now —_ I'd be able to move on.
> 
> But I have two pieces of paper left and I am nowhere near ready to leave, Blue.
> 
> Two. We also had two questions left in the experiment before you quit. Maybe I'll leave it like that, too. I don't think I can go on, Blue.
> 
> The second thing I want to say: I know who you are.
> 
> I mean, I have no idea what your name is, or what you look like, or all the other stuff, but I do _know_ you. I know that you're smart and careful and weird and funny. And you notice things and listen to things — and all this in such a real way. You said _I_ looked at the world in a real way, but it's you.
> 
> I think I like that we got to know each other from the inside out.
> 
> Third, and last, of all: I've been spending so much time reading the quotes you sent me, and sorting them into the categories of _like_ and _love_ , that I almost forgot that you are still out there.
> 
> I know it's over, but is it really? What if I told you it never mattered to me _who_ you were. I jumped to conclusions too fast, because I wanted you in my real life so badly. I wasn't seeing what I wanted to see, in case you thought that. To me, it doesn't matter _who_ you are, because I already know it. I know the real you. Your face is just the last missing piece.
> 
> I don't know if it were the thirty-six questions that made me fall for you, Blue, and I have no freaking clue whether it's even possible to fall in love over email. But I want to meet you, Blue. I want you. And I can't imagine a scenario where I won't want to kiss your face off as soon as I see you.
> 
> I hope I made my point clear.
> 
> So, what I'm trying to say is that there'll be a Christmas market in Morningside Park, starting tomorrow. With carousels, caramelized apples, and an extremely cool ice-ring.
> 
> For what it's worth, I'll wait in front of the deep blue-colored pop-up shed at six thirty. And I hope I see you.
> 
> Love,  
> Simon


	22. Chapter 22

I knew I was prone to making bad decisions, but I honestly thought this had been the right one. Taking one last chance on Blue.

Well, what I had not taken into account while setting us up on a date were my nerves.

On the outside, it might look like my nervous system has been, by some mysterious circumstances, sucked out of me. It's six o'clock sharp and I'm sitting in my room on my bed, perfectly still.

On the inside, my blood is boiling. I feel like throwing up. There is an earthquake of magnitude 10 on the Richter scale in my stomach. And I don't know if it's the nerves, the butterflies, or the fear that Blue may not come.

My eyes are glued to the little box full of notes on my nightstand. Two are still in there.

I said I might leave it like that. Forever. If Blue doesn't come I'll have an unread piece of him still there. It would feel like he never left me. But then again, I remember who I am. I don't know what I am hoping for, but I reach for the carton, grab inside, and pull out the last two pieces of paper. One of them is folded _twice_ so I can't make out any ink ghosting through. I save that one for last.

 _I dream about The Big Romantic Gesture every night_ , suddenly pops in my head, I don't know why. It's something I told Blue a long time ago. _Why is it coming back to me right now?_

The first quote is from Oscar Wilde. _"We are all in the gutter, but some us are looking at the stars."_ I read over it without understanding a single word. I don't know why but I'm so eager to get to the last note. Which is a little paradox, regarding that I planned not to open them at all only two minutes ago.

When I unfold the last piece of paper, the note is longer. And it's not a quote. It's a message. Written in Blue's perfectly neat handwriting.

_PS: I love the way you smile like you don’t realize you’re doing it. I love your perpetual bed head. I love the way you hold eye contact a moment longer than you need to. And I love your moon-gray eyes._

_So if you think I moved on or that I’m not attracted to you, Simon, you’re crazy._

 

***

 

So, I feel like screaming. I wish I could somehow step out of my body and just beat the shit out of that dumb idiot named Simon Spier. _Of course, there was a note in there, of fucking course. It’s Blue! I should have known!_

Under those few lines that make my heart skip about twenty beats in a row, he has written his phone number. His _freaking_ phone number.

Before I know better, my phone is in my hands and the keypad is open. I’m about to type in the numbers to call him — but then I remember. It’s six twenty-five. For all I know, I will meet Blue for real in just a few minutes. No need to call him now.

I fold the note back up and stuff in between my phone and its case before I get up from my mattress. I need to hurry up.

 

***

 

Another bad decision: Only wearing a jeans jacket over a hoodie for a night out in New York in December. It’s all fun and games until I leave the subway and the cold wind bites into my cheeks. _I could have really taken the five more seconds to look for a proper coat._

Now I’m standing with my hands buried into my jacket’s pockets. New York in December feels like Antarctica. Which is just a better excuse to stand so close to the little blue pop-up shed that sells roasted almonds. The air smells like sugar and caramel and I do a little jump every time a guy stops by to get a bag of sweet nuts.

For now, I have resisted the temptation, but if Blue doesn’t turn up soon, I might start some serious stress-eating. I’m just saying.

By now, it’s a little after seven pm.

Leah and Garrett walk by, holding hands, and Leah reaches out and squeezes my arm — of course, I told her about all this earlier. _He will come._

Seven thirty.

Cal seems to be on a date with a broad South American dude. They share fresh popcorn. And with every minute that passes it hits me harder and harder that, in an easier world, that could be me with him. Sharing candy. Walking hand in hand. Kissing in front of the carousel.

Seven fifty.

Someone else I know walks up to me. It’s Bram. Cute, creative, talented Bram Greenfeld. He’s just in a hoodie, so I suppose he isn’t going to stay out for long. That’s not surprising. I know he's someone who prefers a cozy night in with some cocoa to going out to a Christmas market. Even if that means missing out on candy, carousels and ice-skating.

_Blue will come._

Bram buys one of the bigger bags of burnt almonds mixed with cashews. Then he turns and stops next to me. "Hey.“

"Hi“, I say, throwing a quick glance over my shoulder. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to talk to Bram, but I also don’t want Blue to see me with him and get scared away _again_. "I didn’t expect you out here.“

He looks me in the eyes for what feels like a small eternity before he says, "I know I’m late.“

And then the dam breaks. And it’s different from me realizing I was falling for Blue. This time it comes crashing down on me, without a warning or a hint. And everything makes sense at once. "It's you."

"Hi.“ His voice is very low and shaky as if he almost doesn’t dare to talk at all.

"Is your family alright?", I blurt out. My stomach is one big fat knot.

He tilts his head a little to the side, and I swear I can make out the slightest trace of the grin I love so much. "Yeah. Why?"

"I thought there was an emergency. Is everyone okay now?"

"Simon", he says, "there never was an emergency."

"Oh." My eyes are practically glued to his hand that’s holding the bag of almonds. "But you’ve been home for so long."

"Yeah, I…", he sighs, "I needed to figure things out."

There’s silence after that. I wait for it to become awkward, but it never does. I just feel him looking at me. And honestly? I feel the need to slap myself. _How stupid can one person be?_ I mean, I have suspected Blue to be him. But then Cal came along and seemed so obvious. And after being wrong about him, I kind of blew all the theories to the wind.

"So, you’re Blue", I say, gaze still on the almonds.

"Yeah." Silence. "Are you disappointed that it’s me?"

My head snaps up. "No. No, not at all."

"But you thought it was Cal", he says.

 _Okay, it’s only fair to bring that up._ "I mean, yeah", I admit, "I mean, it all fit. But — and this isn’t supposed to sound mean or anything — I never liked Cal for being Cal. I liked him because I thought he was Blue."

"You know that I know you two went out, right?"

"Well, have you ever turned someone down that asked you out?" I feel like crying. I should have never gone out with Cal. I should have never slept with him. "And I still thought it was him when he asked me out. It was just the night of the date when Blue — _you —_ finally emailed me back."

"I know I should have told you right away that your guess was wrong."

 _Suddenly, I feel even worse. I don’t want him to make this his fault. Because it’s not. It’s mine and mine alone._ "I’m sorry about what happened with Cal. I should have blown the whole thing off a soon as I knew he wasn’t Blue. But the truth is, all I wanted was Blue. And something _like_ him was better than nothing."

I can see Bram biting his jaws together.

"But you came here." My voice is very abashed. "And you wrote me that note."

His eyes drift skywards and I can make out a slight blush on his cheeks.

"The note that you buried under a thousand other identical notes." I can't hold this back.

"Well, how was I supposed to know you were going to only read _one_ a day? Who does that?"

"Me!", I say, lifting my arm a little for emphasis.

"I figured." And he grins. _This is a good sign, right?_ "The Big Romantic."

"You said you liked that about me", I remind him.

"I do."

"So." My hands are sweating even though it's freezing. Somehow the rush of finally meeting Blue in real life makes my skin numb to the cold. "Does this mean I get another chance?"

 

***

 

Bram directed me to the bench that's kind of close to the ice rink — the one I sat on when I wrote him that last email.

We sit down and share his almonds for a minute.

"But", I say, sitting up straighter, "How are you a president?"

"What?" He stops mid-chew to look at me.

"The assumptions, remember? One of mine about you was: You share a name with a former president. My dumb ass was obviously thinking about Calvin Coolidge but…"

"Oh", he makes, "Abraham. As in Abraham Lincoln."

"Your name is Abraham?", I ask dumbfounded.

"What did you think Bram is short for?"

"I… I am so stupid. And I'm so sorry, Bram. Abraham." I bury my face in my hands.

"Please don't call me that", he says, "And… it's okay. You're not stupid. It was just a misunderstanding."

"Okay, no." I wipe the grease off my hands. "Seriously. You have all rights to be mad at me."

He looks at me for a solid ten seconds before he answers, "That would be unfair of me."

"No!", I say, "No, just. Listen, I want this to be real. You came here, right? So I assume things aren't… aren't over yet. But I know I'm a mess, and you know that too, so I think we must… sort things out first."

"I meant I'm not mad at you for not figuring it out", he says, his voice so calm it gives me chills, "The whole point of this thing was anonymity. Just because I had it figured out did not mean you had to. But… I _am_ mad at you for the Cal thing. And it's true, I have every right for that."

My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, the cold comes rushing back. It's a December night in New York after all, and we are only in our hoodies. I pull my hands back into the sleeves of mine. "Uhm, do you want to—"

"Talk about this inside? Definitely." He gives me a small smile. "If we sit here for any longer I'm going to die of hypothermia."

"Same. There's a café over there." I nod my chin in the general direction I'm speaking of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I had the Total Chapter number set to 23 but... things have changed. I had to split it up, so there will be a couple more chapters (I think in the end it will be either 24/25). Otherwise you would get like, a six thousand word essay as the next chapter. 
> 
> Also, thanks for sticking around and reading this <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> simon /finally/ has his shit together... for the most part

The café is packed with people from the Christmas market outside. I mean, there are these sheds that sell coffee, hot chocolate, and all other goods, but the only possibility to sit down properly is in here. The windows are all fogged up from people's breaths.

Bram and I get hot chocolates and sit down opposite each other on probably the last free table. If he is still mad at me, he has a pretty damn good way of hiding it. Because he's smiling. And I'm actually melting.

 _I need to calm down. Like, right now._ "I still can't believe it's actually you."

"You really didn't know?"

"Not a clue", I admit.

"Oh." He pokes the mountain of whipped cream on his chocolate with his spoon. "I thought… I… I don't know."

"No." _Honestly? Tonight there is no_ I don't know _. Not from me, and not from him. Tonight is the night. We're meeting, we're open, and it's happening._ "Come on, Bram. Speak."

He must have caught my vibe because he snaps out of his whipped cream trance and looks up to me. For a second, it just seems like he's taking my face in as if he's never seen it before. And it's weird. I feel so… _seen_ for some reason. Like, I'm suddenly aware of every single thing going on with me. My glasses are half foggy from the room's warmth, my nose is itching, and I'm starting to sweat. _Great._

"I just thought there was something between us", he says finally, "I mean, like, when we met at the bar for the first time. Of course, we didn't know we were emailing each other back then. But I… I had this crush on you." He blushes. _And I'm seriously losing it._ "And you know, I just wished for it to be you. But I thought the universe would never be this kind. So I just dropped it. But from then on, we started talking in class and…" He lets out a long, shaky breath. "I couldn't drop it. I just couldn't. At first, I thought I was looking too deep into things, but then… I just knew. And I thought you knew too. I was so sure you were flirting with me because you knew it."

I let that sink for a moment. _How did this become such a mess?_ "I mean, I _was_ flirting with you", I say, "But not because I thought you were Blue. Or maybe partly, because I _was_ thinking that for a hot second. But I was mostly flirting with you because… Because you're you. And I liked you."

"But Cal—"

"Listen", I sit up straighter, "I'm really, really sorry, Bram. I know I've said that a million times over email already, but I truly am. But you have to admit it… Me assuming Blue was Cal is not that far off. I mean a lot of it fit. It wasn't me seeing what I wanted to see."

He's back to looking at his beverage. The whipped cream is now slowly melting into the chocolate. "Yeah. I guess it was confusing. I mean, Cal and I are kind of similar. With the president name and liking to draw and everything."

"And I thought the username", I say, "Bluegreen118. I thought it was because, you know, Cal's eyes are blue."

He lets out a snort. And you know, he's right. Now that I've said it aloud I realize how ridiculous that sounds. "Yeah, no, that's not the reason for the username."

Now it's me who's blushing. "What is the reason then?"

"It's my old email address from middle school. Back in the day when I wanted people to call me Blue for real", he explains, "Blue is what happens when I try to combine Bram and Louis, my middle name. And then green for my last name, Greenfeld. And 118 for my birthday. Eighteenth of January."

 _I'm such an idiot!_ The biggest, dumbest idiot in the history of idiots. I was looking for hints in the real world when all I had to do was open my damn eyes and look at his username more closely.

Bram pauses for a second to shoot me a quick look. "I thought I was such a genius. Blue sounded so cool. I still think that."

I grin.

"That's also why I named the comic after him. I'm not trying to take all the credits here, but the comic was my idea. I drew little pieces of it ever since middle school. It was my way of coping with the… not so nice kids. But I never was courageous enough to post it anywhere. And then I went apartment hunting here in New York and I met Cal and we became friends so quickly and it took off from there."

"Not so nice kids", I repeat slowly. I don't want to push him or something, but I suddenly realize there's a whole more world to explore now that I know _he's_ Blue.

He opens the zipper of his hoodie a little bit. "Yeah. Being the Jewish black kid that's also secretly gay isn't all that much fun", he says.

"Woah", I stop him, "How did I not know you were Jewish?"

"Technically not", he says, "Judaism is matrilineal, and my mom's Episcopalian. But my dad's Jewish and I just… identify with that." He shrugs. "Is it a problem?"

"What? Shut up, of course not." I shake my head. "I just didn't know."

He nods. "Okay. Anyway. I knew Cal liked you."

"Are you…" I'm almost too afraid to ask. "You've been home for so long. And you obviously know about Cal and me. Did he—"

"He told me, yeah." Bram gives me a small smile, but it's almost like a bit of pain is shining through it. "I was talking to him about the 36 Question thing. So he knew I was chatting with some guy. But I never told him I knew it was you. And then you told him, and I guess that's when it clicked for him."

I remember Cal jumping out of bed the morning after our date.

"He told me. He said he didn't know. And I know he didn't. But I was still hurt, you know. So I went home."

"I'm so sorry."

Bram nods slowly. "I'm not… you know… mad that you had sex with someone that isn't me. That has obviously happened before. And we weren't dating."

My face is too hot. I feel the need to push it against the foggy window to cool down. Instead, I just slip out of my jacket.

"I was… angry, or mad, or disappointed, that you had sex with him even though you _told_ me you liked _me_ and you knew he wasn't me. Does this make sense?"

"It does", I say, "And I would feel the same way, so I totally see where you're coming from. It's just… I told you, I wanted Blue, _you_ , so bad, but he seemed so unreachable. And — buckle up, this will sound like I'm some constantly horny monster — I just needed it. Something like Blue. I didn't know I would cause such a mess with it. I didn't know I was having sex with Blue's best friend."

Bram drives one hand through his hair. He still hasn't taken a sip from his chocolate. It's probably cold by now. "I get it. Or I don't. But I understand. I mean… I probably shouldn't be so stuck up on the sex part. You don't talk to Cal anymore, do you?"

"Not really. I mean, I told him I just wanted to be friends the morning after. I haven't talked to him since. Only texted but also not really." I try to swallow a sudden dryness in my throat. "Are you… Are you still friends?"

"Yes."

I let out a sigh of relief.

"We talked yesterday. For hours. I told you, I love that dude. And I'm not going to let that friendship go to waste just because we are in love with the same boy."

I shake my head, slowly, "Cal isn't in love with me. He told me he was thankful I ended things between us before he could catch any stronger feelings."

"You're so naive, Simon." Bram is shaking his head as well. "People lie."

"But… I saw him! Today. With someone else."

"Yeah. Adrián." Bram nods. "He told me he was ready to move on yesterday. So this thing… You and him. It doesn't stand between us anymore. But we still needed to talk about it."

Another sigh of relief. This is definitely going in the right direction.

 

***

 

Five minutes later, we have both gulped down our cold chocolates. I'm slowly putting my jacket back on, dreading the cold that's waiting outside. But we have to leave. There are already new guests lurking by the door, waiting for a free table.

Bram holds the door open for me, which is just — let's just say it's suddenly not that cold outside anymore.

Instead of crossing the street and going back to the market right away, we take the long way to the next crosswalk. Our hands brush against each other a couple of times while walking, but neither of is seems to have the courage to grab a hold of the other.

"How did you… How did you know it was me then?", I break the silence, "Was it because I told you I was from Atlanta?"

"I knew before that." He blushes. "I don't know when exactly. I just knew at some point. You have this way with words that's just so… _you_."

" _I_ have a way with words?", I ask, "Have you seen your webcomic, Mister?"

He's hardcore blushing now. His hand twitches a few times in my direction. I can practically _see_ what's going on in his brain at this very moment. _Should I hold his hand? Is everything said and done? Do I want this?_

I decide to leave it up to him, but I can't help it, I scoot a little closer to him as we stop before crossing. There's maybe an inch between our two pinkie fingers now. It's almost like the universe is pushing them together.

And well, Bram and I seem to have the universe on our side after all. So he hooks his pinkie finger around mine. "Did you mean it?", he asks.

I tear my eyes away from our hands. "What?"

"That it never mattered to you who Blue was. That you just wanted him in your life so bad."

"Yeah", I say, "I mean… _now_ it matters who he is, obviously, because it's you."

"It's me." A tiny smile tucks on the corners of his mouth and it's possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen.

 _I really have to make this right now._ I mean, we're holding hands, so that's good. But I feel like we're not on kissing terms _yet_. Although that's basically all I want to do right now.

"Hey, uhm", I say, swinging our hands a little bit back and forth, "The ice rink."

"Oh no", he says it with a laugh.

"Have you done that before?", I ask.

"Ice skating? Yeah. But I suck at it."

"Good." I give him an encouraging smile. "Let's go."


	24. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hi, calm down, there's going to be an Epilogue :')

Bram does suck at ice-skating. But then again, everyone does. I did a lot of inline skating in the streets with my sisters when I was younger, so I can find my groove faster than him. I offer him my hand and he takes it gratefully — I'm not sure whether he's thankful for the offer or just my hand in general.

However, I didn't lie when I said the ice rink was extremely cool. First of all, of course it's cool because it's ice. But puns aside, it really is badass. They have colorful lights dancing over the icy surface and Michael Bublé is playing. Of course. Because this is New York in Winter and I'm living a freaking cliché.

Bram and I skate for a few minutes in silence, just listening to Michael Bublé and the laughter of fellow skaters. We go slow, very slow, and Bram's free hand is always stretched out to grab the fence around the rink in case he needs more support than just my hand.

Okay, I feel like New York, or whatever God there is, or maybe the universe wants to give me a sign because now they're playing _Everything_ by Michael Bublé.

"Are they playing _all_ of his songs?", I ask and somehow I'm a little breathless.

Bram laughs, and then he suddenly holds onto the fence, skitters to a stop and pulls me toward him. "He's the king of Christmas, what are they gonna do?"

_"And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times, it's you, it's you"_

We're standing right by the speaker now, so I have to lean in closer to talk to him — which is kind of fortunate. "Did you mean it?"

"What?" He looks a little bewildered.

"When you told me you've never kissed someone." My heart is hammering against my chest. _It's freaking happening_ — or at least I hope so.

"Oh." His hardcore blushing game just stepped another level up. "Uh. Yeah. Why?"

"Because", I come another inch closer, "I'm about to change that. But only if you're okay with it."

His eyes drop to my lips for the fraction of a second, and I swear, I can see right through his beautiful skin. He's freaking out. But so am I, so it's fine.

"I am okay with it", he says finally, just when _Everything_ ends.

I smile against his lips before I let my eyes fall shut. And then… I can't describe it. It's different. I mean, I expected it to be; I expected it to be special. Because it's Blue. But I don't think it's special just because it's him. I think it's special because I'm _in love_ with him. Which kind of freaks me out even more. But in a good way.

Bram gets the gist of kissing faster than the whole ice skating thing, that's for sure. His fingertips graze the nape of my neck, and I'm seriously about to melt a hole into the ice beneath me.

We pause for a moment. The next song has come on and it's _not_ Bublé. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles, so I smile back. But then, all of a sudden, he makes a full-on grimace. "Oh no!"

"What?" I flinch back.

"Now they're playing _Frozen_ ", he groans, and I feel like laughing and punching him for scaring me at the same time. We both settle on laughing. That's for the better, I guess.

And then he leans in to kiss me again, this time his hands around my waist. And I feel like I'm in a freaking movie. _A movie with a freaking happy ending._

 

***

 

"Hey", Bram says as we're on our way to his apartment. Just for the record: We're only going there because we're both disasters that can't dress properly according to the temperature outside. So we're freezing. And I also really want another hot chocolate. And possibly more kisses. In his room. On his bed.

"Hm?" I look up to him.

"I guess the experiment worked, didn't it?"

"I mean", I look down at our laced hands, "I guess so."

He smiles. "But have you ever… Do you know the last two questions?"

"No, how am I supposed to know them?", I say, "You quit the whole thing early."

"Hey! I had reasons."

"I know." I circle my thumb over his knuckles. Bram has really, really adorable hands. I've noticed this before but now I actually get to hold them. "But why are you asking?"

"Because I know them", he says, stopping in front of the front door of his apartment building, "And I wanted to bring this full circle."

"Why… How do you know them?"

"When you quit early", he explains, "They show them to you. Kind of like they're showing you what you could have had." He snorts.

"Okay", I say, "So shoot."

"Actually, it was your turn. But since you don't know them, I'm just going to ask you both questions. Deal?"

"Deal", I say, leaning against the brick wall of the building. This situation feels strangely familiar. _The night in front of the karaoke bar!_ I can't help but smile to myself. I have so many memories with Bram, and so many with Blue, and bringing them together feels… It feels like the world stops moving for a good minute. I can practically _hear_ everything clicking into place.

"Okay." Bram steps in front of me, his feet between mine. He's looking down on a piece of paper he pulled out of his jeans' pocket. "Second to last question." He narrows his eyes. "What's your favorite food?"

I burst out into laughter. "What? For real?"

"Yeah. But I can answer that for you." He crumbles the piece of paper in his hand. "It's pizza."

"Yeah, but that was too easy", I roll my eyes, "You called it. I'm the living definition of a straight white boy."

"Minus the straight", he says.

I nudge my foot against his. "Obviously."

"Good. Alright. The last question then."

It feels like the air gets thicker with every millisecond. I have a strange feeling this question can't be answered with pizza.

This time, Bram doesn't have a note to look down onto. He looks me straight in the eyes. "Are you in love?"

It's strange. You would think it would take everything in me to hold the eye-contact after an intimate question like that. But it doesn't. I don't want to look anywhere else. Because I'm not about to lie. "Yes. I think so."

His lips part just the slightest bit and he's perfectly quiet for the longest ten seconds in the history of ever. Then he says: "I think the question is for the both of us to answer."

I nod. But then I kind of chicken out. "If you don't… I mean, I can underst—"

"Yes", he says.

I let my mouth fall shut. _Yes. Yes!_

"So…"

"Does this mean…?"

"The Psychs are going to flip their shits? Probably." Bram grins.

"I meant…" I stretch my arms out and hook my fingers loosely through the belt loops of his jeans. "Are we… like…"

"Boyfriends?"

I tear my eyes away from our shoes and look up to him. He's still smiling.

"If that's what you want."

I let out a breathy laugh. _This doesn't feel real. It_ can't _be real. It's_ too _much, too Disney._ "Are you kidding? That's absolutely what I want."

"The universe is on your side then", he says. And then he leans in, his hands on the brick wall to either side of me, and kisses me again. And holy shit, _this is it_. Thirty-six questions later, this is my Big Romantic Moment. The Happy Ending. Although I have a feeling that this happy ending is only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to say too much just yet, because there is an Epilogue coming, however, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING THIS <3 
> 
> PS: I'm going to write a really short story about what Bram did when he was home in Savannah, but more on this when the Epilogue is up :')


	25. Epilogue

"This is a joke, right?", I ask as Bram holds the door open for me, "It’s here?!"

He grins this sort of mischievous grin that at first, I was wary of because it seemed so unlike him, but he does it a lot, so I guess it is Bram-like. After two months of our relationship, I still have a lot to learn. "Don’t worry, I won’t sing."

We step into the bar one after another. The bar in which Bram and I first spoke. That was roughly six months ago. Now it’s February, and the entire room is covered in pink heart-shaped confetti.

"You know, you’re not that bad", I say, grabbing his hand, "You said you sound like a dying frog but that’s not true. You don’t sound _dying_ , just furiously tortured."

"Thanks, babe. I appreciate your kind words", he says.

Since it’s the early afternoon and the bar just opened its doors, there are only a few people gathered around the small, round coffee tables. The biggest group by far, however, is the one we’re heading toward to.

So apparently, that are the Psych people. The whole Thirty-Six Questions Experiment ran for six months — it just ended — and now it’s time for interviews.

Although Bram and I technically did not finish all of the experiment in anonymity, and Bram quit the whole thing early in the first place, he reached out to the Psychs anyway because we ended up working out after all.

"They are over there", Bram says, "Should I grab you a coffee?"

I nod at him and let go of his hand as he heads for the bar counter. I walk over to the Psychs. I have never seen them on campus before, I think — except…

"You’re kidding me!", I say, "You’re absolutely freaking kidding me. You study Psychology?"

Abby gets up from her seat and smoothes her skirt, smiling widely. "Surprise!"

"How the hell did I not know this?"

"Huh?" Bram materializes next to me and hands me a cup of coffee that weirdly smells like caramel.

"Simon’s freaking out because he didn’t know I was a Psych."

"Oh", Bram makes, "Yeah. Simon? Abby studies Psychology and she’s also super-mega-crazy smart."

"I figured", I say dryly, "But how can I meet up with you every Friday in this very bar for karaoke and not know this?"

"I mean, you never asked…", she says, "Plus, you’ve practically been glued to Bram ever since we first met."

I blush. I mean, I guess that’s true. But then something clicks. "Wait." I gesture between me and Bram. "Did you set us up or something?"

Abby raises her eyebrows. "Oh. No, honey. The couples were matched by our computer system. But, not gonna lie though, I did a little squeal when I saw you two were paired up. I mean, I knew Bram had this crush on you."

"You… you knew Bram was gay? He told you?" I throw a glance at Bram. _As I said, I still have a lot to learn._

"Nope." Abby wraps an arm around Bram’s shoulders. "He didn’t tell me he was gay. I _knew_. Honestly, I know this dude better than myself."

"Abby’s from Savannah, too", Bram explains, "We grew up together. With our bedroom windows literally facing each other."

"So he saw me change a thousand times and never made a move on me", Abby says, "So I thought either I’m not as hot as I think I am or he’s gay. And I mean, I am hot. I don’t work out every day for nothing." She wraps one of her curls around her index finger. "So one day during senior year I just asked him if he was into boys and — well. Here we are."

"Objectively speaking", Bram says, "You sure are hot."

"Thanks." Abby presses a kiss to his cheek.

"Cute!" Another guy pops up next to Abby, and for a second I’m about to fucking lose my shit because I think it’s Nick. But it’s not. It’s just another dude wearing his hair in dreads. "So, guys, you two are one of the lucky few couples that actually worked out."

"Few?", I ask, astonished, "How many people took part in the experiment?"

"One hundred twenty-four. Sixty-two couples", he answers, "I’m Kev by the way."

 

One hundred twenty-four people. Sixty-two couples. Twenty-one of which ended the experiment early. The other forty-one finished it. Out of them, fourteen people are actually here. Seven couples.

"Where are the other thirty-four couples that apparently finished the experiment as well?", a girl called Gina asks. She's holding hands with her girlfriend. Seriously, there's so much diversity in this room, it feels like I'm inside a 90s Benetton ad. "The last question was _Are you in love?,_ wasn’t it? However, it’s only us here."

"We sent emails out to everyone who successfully ended the experiment", Abby says, "But apparently, most people’s understanding of the word _love_ is a hook-up and then never seeing each other again. You here are the last ones still standing."

"Wow", a guy called Marc says, "That’s wild."

"Anyway." Abby claps her hands together. "If there are no more questions" She pauses to look at every one of us. "I’d say let us start the interviews. Each couple will be interviewed separately. The article on the experiment will be published in the April Issue of the _Campus Report_. Cool?"

"Cool." Bram looks at her like a proud older brother. "Let’s do this."

 

***

 

"So", Bram closes his bedroom door behind us and turns the key, "That were quite some nosy questions."

"To be honest, in the end, it felt like Abby was just curious about gay sex." I let myself fall on Bram’s bed as if to underline the last two words.

"Huh", Bram makes, stripping off his jacket, "I actually got some insider info from her. Apparently, we are the only couple that did not have sex yet."

"Yeah, well." I sit back up. Bram, in the meantime, stepped in-between my knees. "That is your fault. You’re kind of playing hard to get, Abraham Louis Greenfeld."

"I’m not playing hard to get!"

"You made me watch every single Marvel movie before you let me put one hand under your shirt." I hook my fingers through his belt loops and pull him slightly closer.

 "Hey", he pouts, "Now we know you’re able to watch about thirty movies in two weeks." A grin forms on his face. "And… it’s not like we did _nothing_."

I bite down on my lip thinking about it. _I mean, yes, we did. And how._ I pull him closer until his knees hit the mattress, causing him to bend over me.

"Cal is home", Bram mumbles.

"He’s going to be fine." I graze the nape of his neck lightly and I can feel him shivering. "I love you", I whisper against his lips. Then his mouth crashes against mine and we both fall back into the sheets.

 

***

 

I gotta say, moving slowly in a relationship is something I’m not quite used to. But then again, I’m not used to real relationships at all.

But it’s incredibly hard to keep my hands off Bram. Not only because he’s a person with a gym membership that actually uses said gym membership — I’ve been lacking in this department lately — but because he’s so smart, and so passionate, and just… so _good_. And he’s not even trying; he just is this person made of pure gold.

Now it’s late and we’re cuddled up in bed, watching Brooklyn 99 after our session of very heavy petting. Bram can recite pretty much every single one of Captain Holt’s lines. And it’s just hilarious to watch his face go all emotionless when he imitates him. 

I press a kiss to his cheek. How did I get so lucky?

We’re watching the episode in which Holt and Jake are in a witness protection program in Florida. And the sunny, warm weather and picture-perfect family homes suddenly remind of something.

"Bram?"

He circles his thumb over the knuckles of my hand. "Huh?"

I press pause on the episode. "You never told me what you did when you were back home in Savannah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So we've reached the end of the story! Thank you so much for reading and every single comment! ❤️ It's been a journey, hasn't it? Watching Simon being dumb for, like, 20 chapters straight, that is.  
> And also special shoutout and big thank you to Marina who betaed pretty much the whole story and made it 100x better! ❤️
> 
> If you wanna know what Bram was up to in Savannah, keep an eye on my account! I'll post the first Chapter soon. (I'll make a whole series out of the two works then)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thirty Six Questions Later Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925196) by [CathyM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathyM/pseuds/CathyM)




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